Tales of Law and Love
by General Luigi
Summary: When Miles's engagement to Lana is broken off after the SL-9 Incident, he takes it upon himself to learn why. In their quest to get back together, both Miles and Lana find themselves discovering who they are and what they stand for.
1. Part I, Prologue: The Curse of SL9

**Tales of Law and Love**

**Part I—Evidence and Forgery**

**Prologue—The Curse of SL-9**

February 23, 2015

The young prosecutor, Miles Edgeworth, entered his office. It had been two days since he won his "guilty" verdict against Joe Darke. It was an odd case. He knew that Darke was guilty, but some things just didn't fit. For one thing, the evidence list was much shorter than a typical evidence list. To add to that, he had overheard many of the detectives talking about how some of the evidence presented in court was never found by them. To make the case seem even weirder, every detective on the case except Detective Goodman got dismissed or demoted. He suspected foul play, but the only thing that really mattered to him was that Darke got the verdict he deserved. Darke was awaiting trial at a higher court to determine his sentence—probably death.

Being a lawyer was an unsettling job. As a prosecutor, it was his job to prove every defendant guilty. So far, he had won every one of his cases. Admittedly, his first case was not technically "won," but since no verdict was handed down, it was not counted as a loss, either. From time to time, during a difficult case, he would question if the defendant truly was guilty. Regardless, he did his job. He felt like a mercenary. His opinion on the case, his belief about the defendant's guilt, and his thoughts about the evidence meant nothing. All that was important was that he proved the defendant guilty. It was what his mentor had taught him—all that mattered was winning the case. Seeing how some of the defense attorneys tried to prove their points, no matter how ridiculous, he believed von Karma's teachings to be true. Even when defending people who were clearly guilty, they pushed their points. Miles found it hard to believe that his father was one of them.

He went to his bookcase and took out a book. _The Idiot_, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Though his bookcase contained mostly case files, there was still room for his own personal interests. On his way to the sofa, he noticed an envelope on his desk. His work was important, so he put the book down and sat down at his desk to open the envelope. He felt a slight bulge inside, making him think it was some form of evidence for an upcoming case. He opened it up and saw a letter inside. When he took the letter out, a ring fell out of its creases. He recognized the ring instantly, knowing then that the letter contained words he did not want to read. Swallowing his fear, he read the letter.

My Dear Miles,

I hope you can forgive me. It's not your fault that this has happened. Something has happened that makes our marriage a bad choice. If I had any say in it, I would have never sent you this letter in the first place. Because of events that I cannot speak of, we must keep our relationship strictly professional. If you can be patient, I promise you this storm will subside. However, for now, it pains me to know that I must break off our engagement.

With love,  
Lana

It had only been two weeks, yet it was already over. Lana Skye. She was a high-ranking detective, and likely to become the new Chief Detective once Chief Detective Damon Gant became Chief of Police. Dick Gumshoe, an incompetent detective that Miles often worked with, had introduced them. They became friends and quickly fell in love. She was the kindest lady he had ever met—so kind that she was willing to give him a chance despite his tendency to avoid making friends with anyone. With the exception of Gumshoe, no one had really given him that chance.

Two weeks ago, Miles proposed to Lana, and she accepted without hesitation. They intended to announce their engagement after the case was over, but they never got together to make the announcement, and now there was no announcement to make.

Miles could not understand why Lana would be unable to explain why their engagement was over. She was an honest lady, so he knew that she had no reason to keep a secret from him. Something else was wrong here. Someone must have been forcing her to keep quiet. All he could think about was the case, which had been codenamed SL-9. It was the only lead Miles had, so it made perfect sense to pursue it.

He remembered the name of someone who knew a lot of secrets: Redd White. If anyone had information on suspicious work in SL-9, it would be White. The problem was getting that information without White gaining some sort of power over him. His thoughts then turned to those who White had under his control. Marvin Grossberg was the first person who came to mind. He knew Grossberg had gained his wealth through White, which meant White probably had a hold on him. Grossberg himself probably had no way to defeat White, though, lest his secret be revealed.

That secret was Misty Fey, the "spirit medium" who identified Yanni Yogi as the culprit from the DL-6 Incident. However, Yogi was acquitted, which made the police distrust Fey. The police's desperate course of action was kept a secret, though. When Grossberg sold that secret to White, White leaked it to the press so he could have a hold on Grossberg. Before long, the price White paid for that information was paid back. That made Grossberg a bad choice for information. As for Fey, she disappeared from the public eye. That was when it hit him: Fey. Misty Fey had two daughters, one of whom was a lawyer. Fey's daughter, Mia, would have had a personal reason to hunt White.

Mia knew what it meant to be a defense attorney. She always trusted her clients, even if they were clearly guilty, just as Miles always believed the defendants to be guilty, even if almost everyone else believed they were innocent. The first time they met in court, the case ended in tragedy for both of them. Every subsequent meeting led to a "guilty" verdict. With that history, it was unlikely that Mia would have any reason to help Miles. Still, knowing her determination, he had a strong feeling that she was trying to find a way to defeat White.

Miles went to his bookcase and took out a phone book. He flipped through the pages and found the F section rather quickly. Seeing the number, he picked up the phone and dialed the number for Fey and Co. Law Offices. The phone was picked up on the third ring.

"Fey and Company Law Offices," the familiar feminine voice said.

"Ms. Fey, this is Miles Edgeworth," Miles responded.

"Mr. Edgeworth, why are you calling me?"

"Are you familiar with Redd White?"

There was a pause. That alone was all the evidence he needed.

"Yes…" Mia responded hesitantly. "I… I know about him."

"I would like to ask a favor of you, then."

"Mr. Edgeworth, I'm in no position to help you out."

"This is not for professional reasons, Ms. Fey. I suspect White has a hold on someone I care about. I wanted you to search for a connection between him and the Joe Darke Killings."

"Shouldn't you have a detective do this? I'm not the kind of person to investigate Mr. White's past."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You say that, but you have a clear motive to investigate White's actions."

"What motive would I have to risk my own life investigating him?"  
"DL-6."

There was no answer.

"Your mother was employed by the police to channel the victim. However, the suspect she named was acquitted. The police kept your mother's involvement in the case a secret from the public, but White discovered that secret and leaked it to the media. As a result, your mother went into hiding. Thus, you want to defeat White and clear your mother's name."

Mia remained silent for a while. Then, "Mr. Edgeworth, this isn't something I can just dig out of my files. Besides, I've got a case right now. I don't make much money as it is, and looking away from a case to help you would make it impossible for me to keep my office up and running."

"I'm not asking you to divert time from your cases. When you're not busy, I would like you to investigate White's involvement in the case. If money is an issue, then I'll pay you whatever you demand for the job."

"It's not just money, Mr. Edgeworth."

"It's the way I've defeated you every time in court, correct?"

Mia didn't answer.

"You have a grudge against me because of your defeats in court. Ergo, you do not want to help me."

Again, no answer.

"I'm not so greedy as to just seek out White for myself, Ms. Fey. If White is indeed connected to the case, then it's Ms. Skye who is suffering more."

"Ms. Skye?" Mia finally answered. "You mean Lana Skye?"

"Yes. She recently… told me there was something she could not speak of. She has never kept secrets from me before, so the only explanation I can think of is blackmail."

"Why should you care?"

"Because she just recently broke off her engagement to me."

"Hah! Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"If you don't believe me, then go talk to Ms. Skye herself. She and I fell in love about a year ago and got engaged two weeks ago. However, just today, I got a letter from her with her ring."

"I'll think about it. If you've been telling the truth, I might help you. Of course, if something regarding SL-9 pops up in my current investigations, I'll tell you."

"Thank you, Ms. Fey."

"I'm sorry, I just thought I heard you say 'thank you,'" Mia said with a laugh.

"What did you really say?"

"Think what you want of me. I do not find this amusing. If someone made light of Mr. Armando's situation, I believe you would be offended, too."

Mia sighed and then hung up. Miles did not know for certain that Mia would help him, but due to her past friendship with Lana, he believed Mia would help.

"I look forward to destroying whatever high-priced defense attorney you hire, Mr. White," he said to no one. Miles had always wanted to strike down a criminal as powerful as White, and with Lana being blackmailed, that would make his victory all the sweeter.


	2. Part I, Chapter 1: No Turnabout

Chapter 1—

**Chapter 1—No Turnabout**

March 20, 2015 to March 22, 2015

The familiar, clumsy footsteps of Detective Gumshoe entered Miles's ears even though the door was closed. From the direction of the sound, he concluded that Gumshoe had just gotten out of the elevator and was walking down the hallway toward his office. His current case was rather simple, albeit one he gladly took. A man was beaten to death by a small gang of college students. He knew the type: rich enough to get away with underage drinking and smoking, got whatever they wanted without question, bribed anyone who gave them trouble. Of course, those crimes were petty compared to what they were accused of now.

To make the case even easier, every last one of them had accused the others. The interrogation method for crimes in which a group of people was responsible was ingenious. By law, they did not have to answer. However, when they were presented evidence that only condemned their comrades, they typically accused them, thinking it would help get them out of trouble. Of course, since their comrades were doing the same with them, it was mere child's play to convince the judge that they were all involved.

A knock sounded on the doors. Gumshoe, no doubt.

"Come in," Miles answered. Gumshoe opened the door, holding a large envelope under his right arm.

"We got the report, Mr. Edgeworth," the detective said, handing Miles the envelope. Miles opened the envelope and looked at the file. Each report contained a transcript of the culprits' questioning sessions. Each transcript contained mainly the same thing: the perpetrators accusing their accomplices without confessing to their own involvement.

"Good job, Gumshoe," Miles finally said. "Was any more evidence found?"

"We got search warrants on their houses, but we've got nothing new yet, pal."

"If there is anything new, please tell me. I could still get the job done with what was already gathered, though."

"And that's why you're a legend, pal. I've even started hearing some people saying you've been using fake evidence."

"Tsk, just naysayers who can't handle the truth. Evidence is just a weapon I use in court. I'm not the blacksmith who makes it; I'm just the knight who uses it. As long as the department gives me good evidence, I will win the case."

"And I'll make sure you get good evidence, pal. You're the best we have. I don't care if Detective Skye got the Chief Prosecutor spot—"

"What?!" Miles almost tore the report in half from the shock.

"Didn't chief Gant tell you? Detective Skye became Chief Prosecutor."

"I was never told. Tsk. I guess not all of the department trusts me the way you do."

"Don't take it personally, pal. Chief Gant and CP Skye worked together for years. It's only natural that the Chief promote his partner in crime… er… you know what I mean… when he gets the spot of Police Chief."

"Well, I suppose being surprised about it will do nothing. Gumshoe, if you don't have anything else to give me, I'd like you to leave."

"Uh… Okay."

Gumshoe left. He meant well enough, but he was horribly incompetent. It was no wonder the poor sap never got any promotions—or raises. Still, given how blunt and cold Miles was, he had no friends on the force other than him, if one could call him a friend. At the least, Gumshoe was good for keeping him company when he needed it. Ever since Lana broke off their engagement, he was feeling incredibly lonely. It had only been a month, so it was understandable.

A sudden jolt coursed through the building, knocking Miles out of his chair and onto the floor.

Suddenly, he was in an elevator. It was dark, nearly impossible to see. He could only make out shadows.

"H-Help!" A voice cried. "I can't breathe!"

"Quiet!" Miles's father answered. "I said quiet! You're not making this any easier!"

"I want to get out! Help! Get us out!"

"Don't shout! You'll just use up more oxygen!"

"I… I can't breathe! You… you're using up my air!"

"Wh-what!?"

"Stop breathing my air! I'll… I'll stop you!"

"Aaaah! Wh-what!? What are you…!?"

"Stop breathing my aaaair!"

_No! Father!_ Miles cried in his head. _He's attacking Father!_

Miles heard a clatter and saw a pistol at his feet. Desperate to stop the fight, he threw the pistol.

_Get away…! Get away from my father!_

BANG!

The pistol fired, the shot hurting Miles's ears.

"Uuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!"

Miles was back in his office. He realized that he was curled up in a ball. Regaining his composure, he saw that nearly every file and book from his bookcase had been knocked loose by the quake. So began the tedious job of re-shelving the files and books.

So Lana was now the Chief Prosecutor. Given that she had no experience as a prosecutor, the rank seemed odd. Perhaps that was what Lana was promised in exchange for her secret? Or maybe White got her that promotion so she could make sure he was never incriminated. It would make sense. With the Chief Prosecutor under his control, White could prevent any incriminating evidence from being used against him.

However, getting Lana promoted to that rank would require the approval of Chief Gant or a commissioner. That meant that someone above Lana was also being controlled by White. Ultimately, the target was the same, though: Redd White.

The phone rang around the time Miles had put everything back. He climbed down the ladder and picked up the receiver.

"Prosecutor Edgeworth," Miles said almost instantly after picking up.

"Mr. Edgeworth, it's Mia."

"Have you found anything?"

"Not yet, no. I just wanted to know if you knew anything about Rob Charleston."

"He was beaten to death by a group of college boys who followed him to his house."

Miles heard a gasp and a very quiet "Oh, no…" on the other end.

"So you trust the investigation?" Mia finally asked.

"I received the report shortly before that earthquake. I am forbidden to speak with anyone outside of the force on it. All I will say is that this is a case I know I will not lose."

"We'll see, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Was there any reason for you to call other than taunting me?"

"I didn't know you were going to be the prosecutor."

"Even if I was not, I could not share information on the case with you. Is there anything else you need to tell me or ask me, or is that all?"

"I… suppose that's all."

Miles hung up. Mia's interest in the case implied that she would be defending the scoundrels. That would be amusing. How would such a persistent attorney behave when her clients are obviously guilty? Still, Mia was a respectable lawyer. Her first case was also his first case, and she probably would have won had the defendant not died before a verdict could be reached. He knew better than to let his guard down against her.

The trial began two days later. Judge Noah Clous was presiding over this one, as usual. So much for a speedy trial. The gavel banged, signaling the beginning of the trial.

"Court is now in session for the trial of Richard Weston, Mark O'Malley, Garry Newton, and Joe Higgins," the judge said.

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," Miles said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Mia said.

"Very well," the judge said. "Mr. Edgeworth, your opening statement?"

"On the night of March 17th, at around 10:56 PM, a section of the Del Cerro community was awakened by screaming. Eyewitness accounts state that a middle-aged man, Mr. Rob Charleston, was beaten to death in the sight of his house's security lights. Two eyewitnesses confirmed the license number of the car Charleston's assailants fled in. The car was traced to the Rancho Santa Fe neighborhood, where the owner, Mark O'Malley, who matched eyewitness descriptions, was arrested. In questioning, O'Malley accused the three other defendants of forcing him to drive them after Charleston, a statement the other three defendants denied. Each defendant accused his fellow defendants while denying his own involvement in the crime."

Miles shook his head as if to pity the defendants' recklessness.

"The evidence found at the scene, as well as eyewitness descriptions and the defendants' own accusations of one another, will more than prove their guilt."

"Very well, Mr. Edgeworth," the judge said. "You may begin calling witnesses."

"The prosecution calls the detective in charge of investigating the scene of the crime, Detective Dick Gumshoe, to the stand."

Gumshoe walked up to the stand.

"Witness, state your name and profession to the court."

"I'm Detective Dick Gumshoe, sir!" Gumshoe bellowed. "I'm the homicide detective who got put in charge of this case, sir!"

"Very good, Detective. Please tell the court the case's basic details."

"Yes, sir! First of all, the case started at the Great Goblet Tavern. People who saw the victim that night said he got into an argument with the defendants and left at 10:21. The defendants left less than a minute after he did.

"Moving on, the victim drove to his home in Del Cerro, arriving at 10:55 PM. Screams were heard not long after. When we arrived at the scene, we saw Mr. Rob Charleston lying against his fence, dead. Just about everyone who had seen it was willing to tell us what happened."

"Thank you, Gumshoe," Miles said. "Was there any evidence found at the scene of the crime?"

"One of the fenceposts had been pulled out of the ground and had blood on it. We also found Newton's fingerprints on it."

"The court accepts it into evidence," the judge said. "Ms. Fey?"

"Detective, could you please tell us what you saw when you got there?" Mia asked.

"Sure thing, ma'am," Gumshoe answered.

"For starters, I was off-duty when all this happened. When I went to the precinct the next morning, I was told to go to the scene and start looking around for clues. Anyway, the officers there had already gotten the place closed off to bystanders, and they were keeping an eye on the place all night. Like I said, a fencepost had been uprooted and had blood on it. The body had been taken away so it wouldn't attract ants and things like that."

"Is that all?" Mia asked.

"Well, you only asked for what I saw when I got there."

"Your Honor, I'll begin my cross-examination now."

"Go on ahead," the judge said.

"So, Detective, what were you doing when the crime occurred?" Mia asked Gumshoe.

"What any sensible guy does at 11 at night: sleeping!" Gumshoe responded.

"So you didn't know what had happened until the next morning?"

"That's right, ma'am."

"Okay, then. Had the officers been gathering any clues before you got there?"

"No, ma'am. They were just there to keep gawkers away."

"All night?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you're sure no one gathered clues or rearranged the scene before you got there?"

"Objection!" Miles called. "The witness has already answered the question."

"Objection sustained," the judge said with a whack of his gavel.

"Fine," Mia said with a sigh. She thought for a moment. "What about the fencepost? Didn't you say the fencepost had one of my clients' fingerprints on it?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know that when I got there. Besides, we hadn't tracked down all the suspects yet."

"All right. Could you please testify to the court about tracking down my clients?"

"Sure thing, ma'am.

"Two of the people who saw the crime happen managed to catch the license number of the SUV the suspects drove off in. We traced the SUV's license plate to the O'Malley residence in Rancho Santa Fe, where we questioned the family there. The son, Mark, matched eyewitness descriptions of one of the killers. We arrested him on the spot. He accused the other three killers of forcing him to drive them when we questioned him. He named them right away, and we arrested the three people he named. Each one of them accused the others without confessing to their own involvement."

Mia opened her mouth to speak when Gumshoe continued.

"Oh, and one of the guys we arrested, Garry Newton—his fingerprints matched the ones we found on the fencepost. The guys who looked at the victim's body also found the fingerprints of all the suspects on his clothes. According to the autopsy report, he had bruises all over, but he died when Newton hit him on the head with the fencepost, breaking his neck."

After a pause, Mia asked, "Is there anything else the court needs to know?"

"That's all, ma'am. The accusations and the fingerprints all pointed to the guys we arrested."

"Ms. Fey, you may begin your cross-examination," the judge said.

"Thank you, Your Honor," Mia said.

"Detective, are there any transcripts of the descriptions the witnesses provided?" she asked.

"They're in the report," Gumshoe replied.

"You mean the one Mr. Edgeworth has?"

"That's the one, ma'am."

Miles, taking his cue, took out the report and flipped through the sections to the description of O'Malley, reading it aloud once he found it.

"He had short, bright blond hair, and one of his ears sparkled when light shone on it, suggesting an earring. He also had a goatee. That night, he was wearing a letterman's jacket from Torrey Pines High School."

The court started murmuring, other than the jacket, the description matched O'Malley perfectly. The judge banged his gavel, right on cue.

"While the Detective was questioning Mr. O'Malley's parents, they said he had graduated with honors from Torrey Pines High School," Miles continued.

"That does rather accurately describe Mr. O'Malley," the judge commented. "Ms. Fey, your thoughts?"

"Is that really all that's in the description, Mr. Edgeworth?" Mia asked.

"That is all, Ms. Fey," Miles responded, sensing that Mia was about to play a new card.

"Don't you find it odd that no one mentioned my client's glasses?" Mia asked.

Miles shook his head, laughing confidently.

"Ms. Fey, have you forgotten that Mr. Charleston's security lights were on? The glasses would have clearly reflected the light off of his glasses, making them obvious to even someone watching from two houses down."

"Exactly," Mia answered. "I find it odd that no one saw his glasses during the crime, especially since the descriptions mention his earring, which is much harder to spot. I surmise that it couldn't have been Mr. O'Malley, or else they would have seen his glasses."

"Objection!" Miles called again. "Ms. Fey, what proof do you have that he was wearing his glasses when the crime occurred?"

"Yeah, pal!" Gumshoe cut in. "Besides, when we first showed up, he wasn't wearing his glasses! When we entered his room to arrest him, he had a contact lens case!"

"Objection!" Mia yelled. "Then why was he wearing glasses in detention?"

"Because he was held there for more than a day, pal! His contacts don't last that long!"

"What if they're extended wear contact lenses?"

"Your Honor," Miles cut in, "the prosecution guarantees that those lenses were daily wear lenses. After all, they were in a seven-section case."

The court murmured, followed by a whack of the judge's gavel.

"Ms. Fey, do you have any further questions?" Miles asked, his confidence obvious.

"The defense… concedes that Mr. O'Malley matches the descriptions the witnesses provided," Mia sighed. "However, I'm not done with my cross-examination just yet. Moving on to the issue of the fencepost… Where exactly were the fingerprints found?"

"There were fingerprints all over, ma'am," Gumshoe said. "I'm guessing a lot of them came from when he was pulling it out of the ground. Still, we found a pair of handprints about a foot from the end that was in the dirt. That must have been where Newton held the post when he swung it."

"And the blood?"

"Most of it was at the other end, but some of it trickled to the bottom."

"How do you know that it—"

"Objection!" Miles cut in. "How the line of blood to the bottom was formed is trivial!"

"Objection sustained," the judge said with the usual whack of his gavel.

"Objection!" Mia countered. "I was going to ask how they knew it was Mr. Charleston's blood!"

"Sustained."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" Miles chuckled. "Ms. Fey, the crime occurred half a week ago—more than enough time for the forensics department to run a DNA test. The blood did indeed belong to Mr. Charleston."

"Fine," Mia sighed. Miles could tell from looking at her that she was starting to see how hopeless her case was. "And were any other fingerprints found on the post?"

"Just Mr. Newton's and Mr. Charleston's, ma'am," Gumshoe replied.

"Mr. Charleston's prints?"

"It's his fence, isn't it? Why wouldn't his prints be on it?"

"Ms. Fey," Miles added, "I hope you are not implying that Mr. Charleston committed suicide to frame the defendants."

"Not at all, Mr. Edgeworth," Mia answered, as Miles knew she would. "I simply wanted to make sure nothing was overlooked, such as the possibility of an additional set of prints being on it."

"Ms. Fey, if there was an additional set of prints, the department would have tracked down their owner, and that person would have been made a suspect—possibly even on trial here instead of the defendants."

"If the defense has no further questions, I would like to relieve this witness from the stand," Miles said to the judge.

"Ms. Fey?" the judge queried.

"The defense has no further questions for Detective Gumshoe, Your Honor," Mia answered. Miles smiled. For once, Gumshoe had testified without forgetting an important fact or making a mistake.

"Mr. Gumshoe, I will make sure to tell the Chief about your flawless testimony," Miles said.

"Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth!" Gumshoe exclaimed.

"Your Honor, the prosecution has now proven that the evidence points to the defendants. To remove any further doubt, the prosecution's next witnesses will prove that the defendants were at the scene of the crime when it happened."

"Very well," the judge replied. "Your witness?"

"For its next witness, the prosecution calls Lucy Hinton to the stand."

A middle-aged woman approached the stand.

"Please state your name and occupation to the court," Miles demanded.

"I'm Lucy Hinton, and the only occupation I have is mother," the witness replied.

"Your Honor, my witness was one of the people who called the police after witnessing the crime."

"Very well," the judge said. "Witness, you may begin your testimony."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Mrs. Hinton said.

"A bit before 11 PM, I heard screams coming from outside. When I got up, I saw four men beating up another man in Mr. Charleston's front yard. I couldn't bear to watch, so I turned away and instantly phoned the police. I didn't want to see them kill him, so I just looked away the whole time. Before long, the screaming had stopped. One of my children had been awakened by the screaming. He ran into my room, and we both had a good cry."

"I'm ready for my cross-examination now, Ms. Fey," Mrs. Hinton said after finishing.

"Okay, then," Mia replied. "I'm sorry to ask you to recall this, but what did you see before you turned away?"

"Four men beating up another man. I found out the next morning that the victim was poor Mr. Charleston."

"What did the men look like?"

"One of them had blond hair and was wearing a red and yellow jacket, another had a bald (or maybe just shaved) head and was dressed mainly in black, and the other two had brown hair and were dressed in red and khaki."

The gallery murmured at the description of the defendants, leading to a good whack of the judge's gavel.

"Order!" he yelled. "Ms. Fey, please continue."

"Gladly, Your Honor," Mia answered. "Mrs. Hinton, could you please be a bit more specific about the time?"

"If I remembered, I would have told you. I know it was a bit before 11. I think it was 10:58, but none of the clocks in my house show the same time."

"That's odd, considering that the time of death was established at—"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "Ms. Fey, my witness has said herself that she didn't remember what the exact time was. Besides, even if she did remember, she also said that the clocks in her house never show the same time as one another. Either my witness remembered incorrectly, or the clock she remembered the time from was fast."

"Objection sustained," the judge said. Mia sighed, a slight scowl appearing on her face.

"Mrs. Hinton," Mia started again, "when you called the police, what did you tell them?"

"I told them someone was getting beaten up by a group of young men," Mrs. Hinton replied. "They told me to stay inside and said they'd be over as soon as possible."

Mia sighed, closing her eyes to help her think. She twitched a little.

"Ms. Fey, do you have any further questions?" Miles asked.

"Mrs. Hinton, how can you describe the people you saw so well when you looked away almost instantly?" Mia asked.

"Oh!" Mrs. Hinton yelped. "Y-you think that's a good description? I guess I just remembered it well. It was a murder, after all."

"You remembered it well despite seeing it for only a few seconds?"

"Yes."

"And nobody told you what other eyewitnesses described?"

"Not at all."

"So you just used what little you remembered that night as a description?"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "Ms. Fey, I would prefer if you not badger my witness over something she is so certain of."

"Objection sustained," the judge said. "Ms. Fey, you will cease this line of questioning."

"The defense has no further questions for this witness, then," Mia said with a sigh. She was acting as though she was calm, but Miles could tell she had realized things were getting desperate.

"Your Honor, I would like to call my last witness—assuming there is nothing wrong with his testimony. After that, I will call the defendants to the stand—unless you would like to pass down the verdict right then and there."

"Then please go ahead, Mr. Edgeworth," the judge said.

"For its last witness, the prosecution calls Mr. Luka Shaklovity to the stand."

A relatively old man walked to the stand, relieving Mrs. Hinton.

"Witness, please give the court your name and occupation."

"I'm Luka Shaklovity," the witness said. "As for my occupation, I am a bartender at the Great Goblet Tavern."

"Your Honor, my witness was on duty the night the crime occurred."

"Witness, please tell the court what happened leading up to the crime," the judge said.

"Around 10:15, an argument broke out between Mr. Charleston and the defendants. Mr. Charleston left a few minutes later, saying he 'would not tolerate people insulting his heritage' or something like that. Less then a minute later, the defendants left. Three of them were clearly drunk, and the one who said he would drive was sober."

"Ms. Fey, you may begin your cross-examination," the judge said.

"Mr. Shaklovity, what exactly was the argument about?" Mia asked.

"The defendants started saying bad things about Mexicans, and Mr. Charleston started commenting on how much Mexican immigrants and descendants contributed to this city. The argument just kept escalating, three of the defendants too drunk to take Mr. Charleston's arguments to heart."

"Was Mr. Charleston Mexican?"

"I don't know, ma'am; I'm a bartender, not a genealogist."

"Your Honor," Miles cut in, "Mr. Charleston's grandmother was Mexican, so it makes sense that he would be offended by the defendants' comments."

"Okay, so Mr. Charleston had reasons to argue," Mia said. "What about the defendants? All of them are under 21."

"I thought that, Ms. Fey," Shaklovity said. "I asked them for IDs, and they presented them. All the IDs said that they were over 21."

"So how is it they were in the bar and drinking?"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "Ms. Fey, all of the defendants said during questioning that their accomplices used fake IDs to get alcohol."

"Is that so? Then we've got a contradiction here. Mr. Shaklovity, didn't you say that the driver was sober?"

"I did say that, Ms. Fey," Shaklovity said. "He had one drink of wine, but that was it. When he left, he didn't show any signs of drunkenness."

"Then why is he a suspect? My client would never kill someone in cold blood. This new fact suggests that it wasn't my clients who killed Mr. Charleston."

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "This trial is only to establish the defendants' involvement in the murder of Mr. Charleston, not underage drinking."

"Objection!" Mia countered. "Then what motive could Mr. O'Malley have for driving his friends to Mr. Charleston's house and beating him to death?"

"Ah…" Shaklovity mumbled. "If I may? It is possible that the defendants shared their drinks with each other."

"Objection! Then why did you say Mr. O'Malley was sober?"

"Because that is how he looked to me! He might have been badly drunk, but he was showing no signs of it. I've seen plenty of people drink too much and just fall asleep instead of mouthing off! He did look tired, at the least."

"Well, Ms. Fey?" Miles asked. "Will that reason satisfy you?"

"No, it won't, Mr. Edgeworth," Mia answered. "It's entirely possible that Mr. Shaklovity was the driver!"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "Now it's my turn to ask about motives, Ms. Fey. What motive could Mr. Shaklovity have for transporting the defendants to the crime scene? Besides, none of the defendants said anything about him in questioning, yet they were more than willing to accuse each other."

At this point, the gallery's murmurs had become easily audible. The judge finally responded with a solid whack of his gavel.

"Order!" he demanded. "Ms. Fey, do you have any evidence that could prove Mr. Shaklovity's involvement in this crime?"

"The prosecution may have that evidence," Mia answered. At this point, only the judge could not tell that she was grasping.

"Well, Ms. Fey, please go ahead, then," Miles said, almost taunting her. "What evidence does the prosecution have that could incriminate Mr. Shaklovity?"

"Was Mr. O'Malley's car checked for fingerprints?"

"It was, and the only fingerprints on the steering wheel belonged to the defendants and Mr. O'Malley's parents."

"Are you sure?"

"Ms. Fey, I think it's obvious to everyone that you're grasping. Concealing, fabricating, and altering evidence are crimes that would cost me my job. I am not so reckless as to take such a risk."

"Ms. Fey," the judge started, "the prosecution has made a clear point. Had this argument proceeded any further, I would have probably penalized you for a personal attack on the prosecution. Regardless, you have accused Mr. Shaklovity without establishing his involvement in the crime. For that, I have no choice but to penalize you."

The gallery started up again, promptly being silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Order!" he yelled over the conversations. "Ms. Fey, the prosecution's case is becoming quite clear to me. I am more than ready to declare my verdict. Do you insist on any further questions?"

Mia breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself. She closed her eyes, apparently trying to find a flaw in Mr. Shaklovity's testimony. Miles had never seen her so desperate in any one of their cases.

"Yes, Your Honor," she said. "The defense would like to call a witness."

"In that case, I will allow it. However! If nothing comes of this, you will be held in contempt of court, at which point I will pass down my verdict. Do you understand, Ms. Fey?"

"Yes, Your Honor." Miles could not help but smile, not because he was amused by Mia's grasping, but simply out of his respect for her determination. From his perspective, it was pure idiocy to take such a risk with clients who were obviously guilty. "The defense would like to call Mr. Mark O'Malley to the stand."

"Does the prosecution have any objections?" the judge asked, turning to Miles.

"I respect Ms. Fey's determination and faith in her clients. If Ms. Fey is willing to get herself penalized for her clients, then I see no reason to stop her."

"Bailiff! Escort Mr. O'Malley to the stand!"

Mark took the stand, his face red with unease.

"Witness, state your name and occupation to the court," the judge requested.

"I'm M-Mark O'Malley, Y… Y-Your Honor," O'Malley replied, understandably quite nervous. "I'm a b-b-business… st-ssstudent at UCSD."

"Are you okay, Mr. O'Malley?"

"Y-Yes, Your Honor."

"Ms. Fey, I will allow only one testimony from your witness unless you can find a good reason to further prolong this trial. What do you want him to testify about?"

"I would like him to testify about the drive from the Great Goblet," Mia replied.

"Witness, you heard her, did you not?"

"Y-Yes, Your Honor," O'Malley answered.

O'Malley breathed in a few deep breaths. His face had lost some of its redness. "What Mr. Shaklovity said about the fake IDs is true. We all used fake IDs to get alcoholic beverages. We had promised each other that none of us would have more than one drink, but my friends all broke their promises. As a result, I had to do the driving. I didn't know the way to my friends' houses, so they told me where to go. Before I knew it, I had been tricked into going right to Mr. Charleston's house. My friends got out of the car and attacked him before I could stop them. I tried to step in and convince them to leave him alone, but it was useless. When he was dead, I drove them home, not wanting them to get in trouble for something they did when they were drunk—not to mention I didn't want to get accused of being one of the killers."

The judge's eyes were quite wide from the tale. "Ms. Fey, your cross-examination?"

"Gladly, Your Honor," she said. "Mr. O'Malley, why didn't you catch on to your friends' trick?"

"Because I had no idea where their houses were," he answered. "I just had to trust their directions."

"And why didn't you do anything when they didn't listen to your pleas?"

"I was scared. I was worried they might turn on me if I tried to force them away from Mr. Charleston. They were too drunk to listen to logic."

"So, you didn't do anything to harm Mr. Charleston?"

"Nothing, Ms. Fey."

"Okay, then," Mia said. She sweated a little. "Mr. O'Malley, I've got one more question. You said you didn't know the way to your friends' houses, correct?"

"That's right. That's why I was fooled into taking them to Mr. Charleston's house."

"And what did you do after Mr. Charleston was dead?"

"I didn't want my friends to get in trouble for something they did when they were drunk, so I drove them home."

The gallery started jeering at O'Malley, partially silenced by the judge's gavel. The banging continued.

"Order!" he demanded. "I said order!" When the court was finally quiet, he continued. "Ms. Fey, is there a problem? I don't see why you're asking your client about this."

_I guess it's a good thing he's a judge instead of a lawyer_, Miles thought. "Your Honor, if I may explain Ms. Fey's line of reasoning, the witness said he had no idea where his friends lived, yet he also said he drove them home after the murder. If he had no idea where his friends lived, he would have had significant trouble driving them home!"

"Yeah, get a clue, Your Honor!" a voice in the gallery cried. Similar jeers rose up, mostly deaf to the judge's gavel.

"Order! Order! I said order!" the judge yelled, barely louder than the gallery's noise. When the noise stopped, he continued. "Mr. O'Malley, please explain."

"Th-They cooperated after they killed him," O'Malley said, guilt bleeding from his face.

"Mr. O'Malley," Mia continued, "I have some more questions for you: what did you do while your friends were attacking Mr. Charleston?"

"I begged them to leave him alone."

"Did you use any physical means to stop the violence?"

"N-No, ma'am," O'Malley said. His face showed signs that he was trying to see why Mia was asking her own client these questions. "I was too scared to pull my friends away."

"Did you try to step between them and the victim to try to shield him?"

"No, ma'am, I was too scared that they'd start attacking me."

"Your Honor," Miles started, "the prosecution would like to remind the court that the fingerprints of all the defendants were found on Mr. Charleston's body. Yet, if Mr. O'Malley used no physical means to drive his friends off or protect Mr. Charleston, he would not have left any fingerprints on Mr. Charleston's body!"

The gallery started conversing again. The judge's voice and gavel were becoming less and less effective with each uproar.

"Mr. O'Malley, the prosecution has a point," the judge said after the court had quieted down. "Please explain."

O'Malley was sweating bullets, his face as red as the Chinese flag. "I-I… I shoved Mr. Charleston a little during the argument at the bar," he said.

"Oh, come on!" a new voice in the gallery yelled. Yet again, the gallery shook the court with its jeering. Regular yells of "Guilty!" flew from the gallery.

"That's enough!" Miles bellowed. The court was instantly silent. "Your Honor, the prosecution respects Mr. O'Malley's persistence, as well as the defense's realization of the truth, yet there is a problem with his statement: his fingerprints were on Mr. Charleston's hat! The positioning suggests that they were from a blow to his nose." Miles demonstrated by pressing his palm against his nose, his fingers reaching up to the top of his head. At this point, O'Malley was no longer sweating bullets—he was practically sweating artillery shells. "Mr. O'Malley, there is no reason for your fingerprints to be on the victim's hat if you simply shoved him."

The judge slammed his gavel on his podium.

"I've had enough!" he bellowed. "This court sees no reason to further prolong this trial. The case is very clear to me, and I have no need to further look into it. This court finds the defendants, Richard Weston, Mark O'Malley, Garry Newton, and Joe Higgins, guilty. The accused will surrender to the court immediately, to be held pending trial at a higher court within a month from today's date. That is all. This court is adjourned!"

The judge gave his gavel a final whack, putting an end to the trial. The gallery dispersed, phrases like "Finally!" and "About Time!" filling the courtroom. After the defendants had left, Miles approached Mia.

"Ms. Fey, if I—"

"Don't start on me, Edgeworth," she snapped. "It's bad enough that I let my clients down; you don't need to rub it in."

"I was going to advise you not to take such serious risks when your clients' guilt is obvious enough to rouse the entire gallery. I respect your determination, but determination alone does not win a case."

"That sure sounds like rubbing it in. My clients were so insistent that they were innocent…"

"The guilty will always lie to protect themselves."

"Was everything you said true?"

"Ms. Fey, I do not forge evidence."

"I wasn't accusing you, Mr. Edgeworth. It became clear to me that my clients were guilty once one of them took the stand. I… just wanted to see if there really was as much evidence against them as you claimed." She sighed. "I really blew it."

Mia walked off, leaving Miles in the courtroom.

"Mr. Edgeworth, you have heard the rumors, right?" the judge asked him.

"That I've been using illegal methods to obtain my verdicts? After SL-9, I can understand those suspicions. I was somewhat skeptical of the evidence in that case myself."

"Why didn't you question it?"

"I asked Chief Gant about the evidence, and he said it was real. Besides, as a prosecutor, my job is to use the evidence I'm given by the department."

"I see. Well, I'm needed elsewhere." The judge left.

Miles had asked about that case, yet Gant had said outright that the evidence was real. Lana said it was rude to suspect the police of breaking the bond of trust they share with the Prosecutor's Office. Thinking about it, Miles realized she had not explicitly said that the evidence was not forged.

_No matter_, he thought. _Forged evidence or not, Darke was clearly guilty. Besides, it's not my place to question the evidence._

Miles left the courtroom, feeling much less pleased than he thought he would.


	3. Part I, Ch 2: How to Dethrone a Tyrant

**Chapter 2—How to Dethrone a Tyrant**

Thursday, May 1, 2015

Of all the people on the case, it had to be Miles. Lana would have felt guilty giving that report to anyone, but it really hurt that she was giving him reason to distrust her. If Miles lost the case with such evidence, he would be crushed. If he was found out for using fabricated evidence, he would probably never trust her again. Until SL-9 was closed, though, Lana had no choice but to do whatever foul deed Gant requested of her. So far, he had only asked for evidence to be forged twice—once in SL-9, and once in the current case.

The case involved a raid on a warehouse. Thanks to an informant, the police found out that the warehouse was a front for a drug smuggling operation. The SWAT team raided the warehouse and confiscated all the drugs. However, one of the troopers had been killed during the raid. Two smugglers had been arrested, and the rest of them either fled or were killed in the fight. Naturally, the department wanted revenge. However, these smugglers were professionals; neither one was willing to accuse the other of anything. Gant chose a smuggler to target and created evidence to incriminate him. He could indeed have been guilty, but that did not justify the forgery. The killer could just as easily have been one of the smugglers who died in the fight, or one of the survivors who avoided capture.

Thanks to the SL-9 Incident, Lana had lost almost everything she cared about. When she saw Ema's name on the jar fragments, as well as Marshall's body skewered on Gant's suit of armor, she panicked. With that scene, her sister would have easily been suspected. Desperate, she sought Gant's help in rearranging the scene. He agreed to help, but for a price, one that became obvious with her promotion to Chief Prosecutor. Thanks to Gant, Joe Darke was convicted and executed. He was by all means the serial killer the force had been tracking, but that last murder might not have been his.

When Lana had been promoted to Chief Prosecutor, Gant sprung his trap. As Chief Prosecutor, she had authority over all cases that went to court. Gant wanted her to forge evidence and testimonies whenever he wanted her to. If she ever disobeyed, Gant would prove Ema's guilt.

To deal with herself, Lana had to build a wall around herself. She became cold enough to freeze the sun. No one was her friend anymore. If anyone got close to her, her secret might slip. She had to forget about her relation to Ema. From then on, Ema was just a girl that she was raising—nothing more. She had even broken off her engagement to Miles Edgeworth, who had proposed to her around two weeks before SL-9. If she and Miles had gotten married, he would have had little trouble finding out the truth about Lana.

The one silver lining was that the case would be permanently closed in two years. When that day came, she would be free. She could be warm and kind again, she could treat her sister as family, and possibly even Miles.

"Skye!" a familiar voice called from beyond the doors to Lana's office.

"Come in," Lana answered, trying to contain her spite. Police Chief Gant entered the office.

Gant was an imposing figure. His personality was jolly enough to catch anyone off guard, his threatening frame enough to make even professional thugs scared. Behind that smiling mask of his, though, was a beast as horrible as Redd White. Thanks to the Chief's ties to White, it was almost guaranteed that the slimeball would never get in trouble with the law. Whether Gant let White break the law due to blackmail or friendship was beyond her, but Lana knew that crime would always exist as long as Gant was there. Despite that, she was helpless. If she did anything to Gant, her sister would ultimately pay the price.

"What do you want?" Lana asked, her disdain evident enough for even Judge Clous to notice.

"Has the report been handed over?" the Chief asked.

"Yes."

"And it was the right one?"

"No, I gave Mr. Edgeworth the forged one."

Gant let out a loud laugh.

"Good one!" he managed to say between laughs. After that, he calmed down, waiting for all attention to be directly on him. Lana never understood why he would wait like that before speaking. "Now, Ms. Skye, you know we can't just let the death of an officer go unsolved," he finally said, his voice now devoid of jollity. "The department wants revenge."

"Accusing someone who may be innocent is hardly what I'd call revenge," Lana said dryly. "We attacked an innocent country twelve years ago, claiming it to be revenge for a terrorist attack two years earlier, and now half of the Middle East wants us all dead. Is that what you want, Chief? Do you want an entire mafia after our department?"

"What happened to you, Ms. Skye? You weren't always this cold. I'd go for a swim with you if I wasn't worried about you freezing all the water!" The chief laughed at his own joke until he saw that Lana did not care.

"What happened? You happened, Chief. You blackmailed me, and now I'm forced to do your bidding. If I had stayed the way I was, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself for playing a part in your actions."

"So it's my fault? I'm not the one who rearranged a crime scene to save a relative."

"The crime scene has nothing to do with it; it's your blackmail. Had you left me alone after that, I could have avoided this change. I could be living a wonderful life with Mr. Edgeworth right now, but thanks to you, I broke two hearts."

"I really don't care about your life. I only care about three people: me, myself, and I. Everyone else is just a tool to me. Even you, Ms. Skye. Besides, you know that you'll never have another chance with Worthy if you give me any trouble."

"You have to die eventually. When that happens, I'll be free."

"You really think Worthy's that patient?" Gant had started circling around Lana's desk.

"We'll just have to find out."

"Now THAT'S loyalty!" Gant bellowed with a hearty laugh. "If only my own ex-wife was like that! It sure isn't easy for a guy like me to find a wife!" He chuckled. Lana knew a joke was coming. "Maybe you'll get attached to me someday!" He then laughed hard enough to be heard in the other offices.

In a very swift motion, Lana spun around in her chair, her legs extended, sending the dirtbag flying off his feet and onto his previously laughing stomach. She stood up, her feet a few inches from his head.

"Let me make something very clear to you, Chief," she said, glaring daggers down at him. "I hate you. What you've done to me, my sister, my fiancée, and the entire system of justice for this district, is something I cannot forgive. To make things even worse, you make light of your heinous actions. When you die, the whole city will learn about your misdeeds, and you'll be spoken of in the same breath as Redd White."

Gant got up and dusted himself off—not that the floor had much dust on it to begin with. "I guess I'll have to be more careful, then," he said. "You're too precious a tool for me to lose so soon."

"Get out of my office."

"Now that's not very nice, Ms. Skye."

"I said get out. Go butcher some scale on that organ of yours."

As Gant left, it occurred to Lana that she would actually be trapped for more than just two years. Any case she forged evidence for would be a threat to her. Until Gant died, she would be trapped. Even then, she would be stuck until after the last case she ruined was permanently closed. All she could do was hope that Gant pushed his luck too far or got killed in an accident. It was odd. For the first time, Lana actually wished death upon someone.

_There's really only two ways I can get out of this mess_, she thought. _Either I die or he dies. If I kill Gant, he can't force me to keep forging evidence, but I'd risk the death penalty, which would strip me of everything I want to see once this is over. If I die, it will be the same: Ema would be alone, Miles would be heartbroken… All I can do is wait for Gant to die on his own._

She almost cried. There was no way out. Gant was only 63; he still had at least ten years left. Given his health, it was probably closer to twenty. There was no way Miles would wait that long. That thought drove the tears out. Miles hated crime; even if Lana married him, confessing to him meant he would probably do everything in his power to incriminate her or Ema.

If she believed in an afterlife, she might have killed herself right then and there. Was there any way out? In her sadness, had she overlooked anything? Was there any way to rid herself of Gant's control without killing anyone?

_What if I got Gant dismissed?_ she asked herself. _If he lost his position as Chief, he would no longer have anything to gain from my forging of evidence._ That was it. That was how to free herself. The problem was how. How could she get the Chief, a man who used to be a legendary detective, dismissed? The only way was to make the commissioners doubt him. However, the only way to do that would be to expose the truth about SL-9, which would in turn expose her. The only other way was to make him a criminal. If he looked like a criminal, his credibility would sink, making any of his accusations unlikely to be believed. If Gant was incriminated, his hold over Lana would end. It was only a faint light of hope, but it was still hope.

* * *

When Lana got back to her condo, she was greeted by a familiar "Rahr." A familiar dark Burmese cat rubbed up against Lana's legs. She responded by bending down to pet her. Lana and Ema had two cats: the dark one was Barbara, who was a few years older than Ema. Lana had inherited Barbara after their parents died. The other, Katara, was three at the time. Ema had named that one after a character from an old show that she got interested in. Katara was also a Burmese, but she was smaller, in addition to having lighter fur. Ever since SL-9, those two cats had become Lana's confidants—not that they understood what she was going through. Still, it helped to have someone to talk to, even if they weren't listening.

Ema must have still been at her friend's house. That allowed Lana to talk to the cats without anyone overhearing. She sat down in the armchair next to the bookcase. Barbara hopped up onto her lap and curled up. Lana started to pet her, looking toward the bookcase that lined the wall. All manner of things were there, ranging from the storybooks from when Ema was still very young, to history books, to knick-knacks and memories, to books on science, to books on law. A number of pictures were in the middle section, right above the atlases. Most were family photos from various points in time, or photos of the cats. One photo of a date with Miles was also there.

"What do you think, Barb?" she asked. "Do I stand a chance? Can I somehow defeat Gant before Miles gets tired of waiting? The fastest way to break his grip is confessing, but he might just deny his involvement in it."

Katara wandered in.

"You're right, Katara. I've stopped Gant from using fake evidence before." She sighed. "If only I could produce evidence that he was breaking the law. Nothing gets you out of the Chief's office like breaking the law."

The phone on the end table next to Lana rang.

"Lana Skye," she said into the receiver.

"Lana, it's Mia. Do you mind if I come over?"

"Why?"

"There are some things I need to ask you."

"Namely…?"

"It's a sensitive issue; I can't talk about it over the phone."

Lana sighed. "I suppose you can come. Ema's not going to be back for a while, so it'll just be you, me, and the cats."

"Actually, there will be another person coming."

"Who?"

"Mr. Edgeworth."

Lana felt her eyes widen.

"Why him?"

"I told you, it's a sensitive issue. Anyway, we'll see you there in a bit."

Mia hung up before Lana could respond. Miles was coming. Even Judge Clous could figure out why. Miles probably planned on confronting her about her secret.

"If I leave, they'll know I'm hiding something," Lana said to the cats (more so to herself). "But if I stay and talk to them, they're bound to ask, which means Miles will get me arrested."

The doorbell rang.

"That was too fast," Lana said to Katara. "Mia must have called from her car."

She went to the door and opened it. Mia was standing there, but Miles was nowhere to be seen.

"Mia…" Lana greeted, fearful of what was coming.

"Mr. Edgeworth will be here in a few minutes. He always goes the speed limit, so it's only natural that I got here first."

"This is about…"

"It could be about nothing. While we're waiting for Mr. Edgeworth, though, can I ask you a few things?"

"I suppose…"

Lana led Mia to the living room.

"You're really worried, aren't you?" Mia asked.

"Well, Miles is coming, so I know this can't be just a social call."

"So you know him personally?"

"I love him," Lana said, knowing there was no hiding anything from Mia. Mia just laughed.

"So he wasn't lying!" she said between laughs. "And you were engaged to him?"

"Only briefly. I… had to break it off pretty soon afterwards."

Mia was serious now. "Engaged to Edgeworth…" she said to no one. "I can't see why. Sure, he's handsome, but he's not exactly the friendly type."

"Maybe not to you, but he was very kind to me and Ema. He didn't have any friends on the force other than Gumshoe, and I sympathized with him. I lent him an ear, and we became friends. He may be harsh on the outside, but given what happened to him and who raised him, that's no surprise."

"Wasn't his father his hero?"

"Yes, but after his father died, Manfred von Karma took him in and raised him along with his own daughters. Franziska was a harsh perfectionist like her father, and Therese was only the slightest bit better. When he returned to America, he was practically a von Karma in his own right."

"No wonder he has so few friends…"

"Which is why I want to get to the truth behind this whole disaster," a somewhat intimidating male voice said from the doorway. Lana turned and saw Miles, holding Katara in his arms.

"Mr. Edgeworth!" Mia said in a scolding voice. "Were you eavesdropping?"

"Not at all," he answered, the bluntness in his voice proving that he was not lying. "I happened to see a certain someone wandering around in the parking lot when I arrived, and when I saw the door to Lana's condominium open, I just decided to walk in, since I saw your car already in the lot."

Lana felt her heart beating faster. Miles sat down on the sofa on the end opposite Mia, letting Katara go. However, Katara was more than content just curling up on his lap.

"So, Ms. Fey, would you like to hear more about how our lives became a romantic tragedy, or are you ready to get to the point?" Miles asked. Were Lana not so worried, she would have laughed. Mia sighed.

"I would like to learn more," she said.

"To put it simply, I gained a lot of naysayers. You should remember, but I was only twenty when I first became a prosecutor. Age alone seems enough for people to distrust me. Of course, when I turned out to be one of the police department's most powerful weapons, that made even more people resent me. Even though I did nothing illegal, almost no one in the police department trusted me. Lana tried to befriend me, and succeeded. Before long, we fell in love and started dating. After about six months, I proposed to her. It goes without saying that I was surprised when I found Lana's ring in a letter she had left on my desk."

Mia sighed again.

"You don't believe us?" Lana asked.

"No, I believe it," Mia replied. "I just have a little trouble accepting it. Imagine—a friend of mine getting engaged to Miles Edgeworth. If I wasn't seeing proof right before my eyes, I wouldn't believe it."

"Anyway, the engagement ring alone is not what led to this, Lana," Miles said. "It was your letter that made me suspicious. First, you said that if you had any say in the matter, you would never have broken off your engagement to me. You also mentioned that it was 'because of events you cannot speak of.' Naturally, my conclusion was that something had gone terribly wrong in your life. My first conclusion was that you were being blackmailed."

"Please don't ask me for the answers," Lana said.

"I came here for that specific reason. Ms. Fey said she could help get the answers out of you, so she asked that I come along."

"I'll say only one thing. I am being blackmailed. If I told you anything more, I'd be putting myself and Ema in danger."

"Ema's involved?"

"Yes. I can't tell you about this, though. If you knew the details, even the identity of my blackmailer, you'd start looking for clues, right?"

"Of course we would."

"But my blackmailer's too cautious. If he gets even the slightest hint that I'm trying to break free, he might strike. If you're going to hunt him, you'll have to do it without any help from me."

"How can we hunt him without your help?" Mia cut in.

"Ms. Fey, you've been hunting White for years, correct?" Miles countered. "Detectives find clues without searching for a specific person. The task before us, though tedious, is quite simple: Lana is our only lead, so we search for anything connected to her. If we trace the clues to the right person, we will have our answer. As long as we don't know who the blackmailer is, we can't search for any specific person."

"In the meantime," Lana started, "I'll be obeying my blackmailer's every order. If I give any hint that I have the two of you hunting him, he might strike. I'll be colder than the South Pole in July. I've given you a start. From here on out, though, you're on your own."


	4. Part I, Chapter 3: Trust

**Chapter 3—Trust**

June 19, 2015

All Hell had broken loose after the trial of that smuggler. Miles now had to walk around with a patrolman thanks to a couple of attempts on his life. Thanks to his prosecution of Jorge Marino, he was blindsided by a fellow driver a few days after the trial. After slamming into the left side of Miles's car, the driver pulled out a gun and tried to shoot him. Were it not for the fact that Miles was blindsided right in front of the police station, he probably would have been killed. He suffered fractures to his left leg and hip from the collision, placing him in a body cast and a wheelchair.

His car was another story. The impact had torn the engine apart beyond repair. For the time being, Detective Gumshoe was driving Miles around in his own car—if it could be called a car. The piece of scrap metal served its purpose, but it was nothing he would have voluntarily driven. Gumshoe referred to it as his "hunk of junk car," but in a way that made it clear that he was glad to have it. It was indeed a hunk of junk, too. Most of the paint had flecked off, much of the chassis was rusted, the right side view mirror was broken, the suspension was rusted together on the back wheels, the engine sputtered, the wipers stuck, the radio played more static than music (not that Miles cared for most of the music ever broadcasted on the local stations), the upholstery was torn and badly stained with who knew what, the car regularly stalled in wet or slightly cold weather, and one of the doors had trouble closing. Miles's wheelchair was stored in the back seat. It would have been put in the trunk, but the trunk smelled like sour milk—far from a good smell to have on one's wheelchair.

A new car—a rather comfortable and efficient sports car Miles had seen during his annual visit to Germany—was going to be imported for him in about a month, by which time he would be able to drive on his own. For the time being, though, Miles had to be driven to and from the Prosecutor's Office in Gumshoe's engine on wheels. In truth, Miles would have preferred just taking the bus, but the city's bus system, like most of its public transit system, was pathetic for a city with over a million people—in fact, it was pathetic even for a city with ten thousand people. A lot of the prideful higher-ups were against having their "luxurious" reputation spoiled by something typically used by "lower" classes. Though the public transit system was not something he would typically use instead of a car, the lack thereof forced the city's less wealthy residents to get cars, which, given the price of fuel, were so expensive in the long run that they ultimately cost more than the people's homes.

Outsiders thought of San Diego as a lovely city, but that was only at face value. Like a lot of large cities in the United States, San Diego was better to visit than to live in. For a city of San Diego's size, the city government was horribly corrupt. Given that Bluecorp's headquarters was in San Diego, it made some sense, but even with Bluecorp, the government was too corrupt. Roads were rarely in top form, and many transportation projects focused only on the short run and were often finished so late that they were obsolete upon completion. The city's dependence on cars also drove up the pollution to moderately harmful levels. Admittedly, given Los Angeles's bad reputation in comparison, San Diego was not necessarily Hell, but it was far from Heaven.

"Somethin' on your mind, Mr. Edgeworth?" Gumshoe asked, breaking the relative silence of the ride.

"Just how much this city has deteriorated since my childhood," Miles answered.

"You don't like it here?"

"For me, the city is tolerable, but not a place I would choose to live in were it not for my current job."

"Well, I like this place. It'd be nice if there wasn't as much crime, but then there'd be less jobs for us law people."

"It's a pity that our jobs depend on crime continuing, but then again, many important jobs depend on misfortune."

"At least we're not in Smog City, pal."

"There is that to be thankful for. In my visits to Los Angeles, I would sooner call the city 'Los Diablos' than 'Los Angeles.'"

"'Los Diablos?'" Gumshoe asked, not familiar with the city's second most common language.

"'Los Angeles' translates into 'The Angels.' 'Los Diablos' translates into 'The Devils.'"

Gumshoe didn't answer, probably thinking about the comment. Then, with a laugh, "I'll have to remember that one."

"I first heard that comment from your least favorite prosecutor."

Gumshoe shuddered.

"At least you and Mr. Dzhugashvili agree on some things," Miles added.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I have to like him. The guy works us detectives into the ground."

"He has his reasons, though."

"He doesn't trust us, pal! That's why he always watches our investigations!"

"Given past faulty investigations that have resulted in innocent people getting arrested, I can understand why he is so insistent on thorough investigations."

"Look, we make mistakes sometimes. As long as the right guy's found in the end…"

"Gumshoe, you know that we have very strong prosecutors. In most cases, whoever is arrested is usually found guilty whether the investigation was thorough or not. I've seen plenty of cases in which I actually had my suspicions that the defendant was innocent. Need I bring up the Terry Fawles Incident?"

Gumshoe hung his head a little bit and sighed. "I see what you mean, pal. Did you really think he was innocent, though?"

"In all honesty, I don't know. Ms. Hawthorne was definitely suspicious, but her motive was dubious at best."

"She's way too pretty to be a killer, pal!"

"'Take nothing and no one at face value.'"

Gumshoe tensed up slightly at the quote.

The remainder of the car ride was quiet except for the sputtering of the engine and the occasional squeaking of the wheels. Gumshoe dropped Miles off at the Prosecutor's Office, where he wheeled himself off after a brief good-bye.

While Miles was on the way to the main entrance, a silver car slowly pulled in. When it parked, a man in a long black coat—much like a greatcoat, but without the extra padding on the shoulders—and holding a cane in his right hand got out. The cane tapped on the pavement every now and then.

"Good morning, Mr. Edgeworth," the man said.

"Good morning, Mr. Dzhugashvili," Miles answered.

Ivan Dzhugashvili was like a lot of the city's prosecutors in that he had some odd aspects about him—not the least of which was his appearance. He was similar in size and build to Miles, but he seemed taller to most people. His most notable features were his long coat and his beard. His beard was long and relatively ungroomed, reaching down to the top of his chest. His hair was another story, though—always fabulously groomed. His glasses rarely drew attention except when he fidgeted with them. Of course, his cane also left an impression on those who knew its true purpose.

One thing Dzhugashvili was known for was his direct involvement in the investigations for any cases he handled. He always made certain that every part of the crime scene was examined thoroughly, every person with even a remote connection to the case questioned, every piece of evidence examined in every possible method. "Take nothing and no one at face value," he often said. Though his trial record was nothing impressive, he was a respectable man. Of course, most detectives who carried out investigations for him hated him—many referred to him as "Ivan the Terrible" behind his back. He was so thorough that many investigators were ready for a vacation after working with him; he wanted nothing overlooked.

Still, he didn't care that the detectives despised him. In regards to his harshness, the ends justified the means. He was the only prosecutor Miles believed beyond a shadow of doubt to have never proven an innocent person guilty. He even went so far as to point out contradictions defense attorneys missed.

"Have you heard the latest about Borginia?" Dzhugashvili asked.

"Nothing new," Miles answered.

"A bunch of radicals set off bombs in Pskov."

"I thought the Borginians wanted independence, not punishment," Miles said somewhat arrogantly.

"The representatives in Tartu denied involvement in the attacks, but I doubt Russia will believe it."

"A false flag, perhaps?"

"Doubtful. Russia may not have an incredible government, but they would not stoop that low. Besides, as things stood before the bombings, most of Russia had little trouble with Borginia becoming independent. Besides, most of the land they're asking for is in Estonia."

"I meant by Russian opposition radicals—people in Russia who are against Borginian independence."

"It's possible when you put it that way."

"By the way, Mr. Dzhugashvili, why are you here instead of at the crime scene?"

"I believe the investigation no longer needs my observation. Besides, I have something to discuss with the Chief Prosecutor."

"If I may ask, what is it?"

"Some dubious evidence that was delivered to my office yesterday."

"Do you think she's responsible?"

"I doubt it; this particular evidence would cast suspicion on the prosecution's claim. I kept a careful eye on the investigation, and I believe with the utmost certainty that our suspect is guilty. The evidence I was given has to be forged."

"Who is the suspect for your case?"

"Aaron Space, a Bluecorp executive," Dzhugashvili answered. "A connection was found between Space and the recent smuggling operation, and so far, no evidence has given us reason to not suspect him. For starters, Marino named Space as someone connected to the operation. When we investigated his house, we found numerous contracts with the smugglers, among other incriminating items."

"Such as?"

"Files on the Kitaki family, a list of people known to be involved in the smuggling operations—need I continue? A safe room was also discovered in his house with a number of illegal weapons in it—as well as the same drugs from your case."

"Why does he have files on the Kitakis?"

"We've found that they're the main group behind smuggling operations in San Diego. If Space was involved in blackmailing them, then his cut of the drugs and drug money makes perfect sense."

"What about the forged evidence?"

"A file on the Rivales family and their connection to the smugglers. The warehouse had evidence of the Kitakis' involvement, but nothing even remotely incriminating the Rivaleses. Besides, the Rivales family has never been found to have had connections to smuggling. I would be astounded if the evidence was—"

Dzhugashvili was cut off by the Streltsy's theme from _Khovanshchina_. He reached into his coat pocket and took out his cell phone. The phone was rather large and had a touch screen and stylus. It looked much more like a PDA than a phone.

"This is Dzhugashvili," he answered. He paused to listen to the caller. "And has a conclusion been reached?" "You're certain?" "Okay. Thanks, Katyushka." "You couldn't have called at a better time, actually. I was just about to talk to Ms. Skye about the matter." "Excuse me?" "HE wanted you to stay quiet about it?" "I'll make sure to bring him up in the conversation, then." "Good-bye, Katyushka."

"Your wife?" Miles asked as the elevator reached the twelfth floor.

"It was forged, and Chief Gant wanted the forgery kept under wraps."

"Chief Gant?"

"This forgery situation is going from bad to worse. I think I'll contact Fey and see if she's found a connection between Gant and White or Space. If Gant's the one behind the forgery, then Ms. Skye could not possibly be the conspirator. At the worst, she is an accomplice, though I doubt it, given her honesty."

"Agreed. I trust Ms. Skye the same way I trust the investigators."

"You only trust her because you love her."

"You have it backwards, Mr. Dzhugashvili. I love her because I trust her."

Dzhugashvili had no response to that. In truth, there really was no proper response to a statement like that. The elevator dinged at the twelfth floor. Miles wheeled himself out and to his office.

_Purge those thoughts from your mind_, Miles ordered himself. _Lana would never forge evidence. She has done nothing but trustworthy work since the day she joined the force. She's even helped expose forgeries within the department. There's no way she would forge evidence herself._


	5. Part I, Chapter 4: A Mess

**Chapter 4—A Mess**

July 2, 2015

"Mr. White is not happy about this, Ms. Skye," Chief Gant said, stating the obvious.

"What was I supposed to do?" Lana countered. "Force Dzhugashvili to present the file? We're lucky he didn't raise a big stink over it. I even had someone send the file to Grossberg so he could present it, just as you asked me to. He just barely avoided getting disbarred for it."

"Really? What happened?"

"The instant Grossberg presented the forged file, Dzhugashvili called its legitimacy into question and called various members of the investigation team to the stand. Their testimony proved that the file was a fake. Grossberg was held in contempt of court and the trial ended with a guilty verdict. Dzhugashvili confronted me about the file again and told me he had even more reason to believe the forgery was an inside job now. After all, forged evidence that was given to him by someone within the department would not just magically appear in Grossberg's office."

"He needs to trust people more. I want you to fire him."

"I'm not done, Chief. When he told me about the forgery, he said that he was almost certain that you were behind it. He also said that he will not hesitate to bring this matter before the commissioners if he learns about another forgery. If he does that, you and I are both in a huge mess."

"Why does he think I'm the one behind the forgery?"

"His wife told him that you were the one who tried to cover it up. Before you fire her, think about it. If either one of them is dismissed without a good reason other than being a threat, we'll soon go down with them."

"I suppose you're right," Gant said with a bit of a sigh.

"Now that he suspects you, he'll probably keep a close eye on you. If you're going to try to keep me under your control, you'll need to be a lot more cautious."

"Ms. Skye, are you trying to counterattack?"

"Not at all. I have just as much to lose from this as you do. However, I think we'll have to avoid tampering with any case that the Dzhugashvilis handle from now on; they'll spot the forgery in an instant."

"You're right about that. Still, I owe Mr. White an explanation."

"Tell him the prosecutor on the case spotted the forgery on his own."

"And you think he'll buy that?" Gant asked, partially laughing, partially worried about what White would do to him. Lana made a mental note to remember that moment when her tormentor showed fear.

"I don't know exactly what hold he has over you, but you're not one to set off a mine unless you're sure you won't get caught in the blast. I'm sure he knows he has as much control over you as you have over me."

"That doesn't change what happened. He'll probably think we've turned on him."

"What do you mean 'we?' He has no direct hold on me."

"But I do. You're the one who got us into this mess, so find a way to get out of it."

"How am I the one responsible? You're the one who requested the forgery and then asked me to send it to Grossberg when Dzhugashvili refused to use it."

The telephone rang. Gant picked it up.

"Police Chief Gant," he said into the receiver. There was a pause. "I was just discussing the matter with the Chief Prosecutor." "No, Dzhugashvili spotted the forgery completely on his own." "Why would I betray you? If I betrayed you, I'd be ruined." "No, please don't." "I can't get rid of them." "Because they know the forgery was an inside job! If I get rid of them, they'll expose everything, including your involvement in this!" "They're too smart for you. They've probably got a plan." "No, I'm not protecting them! I've got even more to lose than you do if our involvement's publicized!" "Look, I had the evidence sent to Grossberg so he could use it to win the case!" "I know that!" "I told you, Dzhugashvili did this all on his own!" "Thank you, Mr. White."

Gant hung up. He was covered in sweat. Lana felt herself smiling.

"What are you smiling at?" he demanded.

"It's nice to see the torturer become the tortured every now and then," she answered.

"Cursed man! Why does he do this to me?!"

"The same reason you're blackmailing me—personal gain."

_I'd sure like to know what sort of hold White has over Gant_, Lana thought.

"You can leave, Skye. White let us off with a warning."

"Gladly," Lana answered.

* * *

Lana was about to get into her car when Jake stopped her.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"Depends on what about and how long," Lana answered.

"What happened to you? You used to be the nicest gal I knew, n' now you're colder 'n a desert night in the middle o' January."

"Nothing happened. People change, Officer Marshall."

"You better not be thinkin' I'll buy that. There's no way you'd change so much just like that."

"What do you want me to say? 'I changed because I spent too much time with Mr. Edgeworth?'"

"Never said you were spendin' too much time with the boy. I'm thinkin' he's the reason you changed, though. He dumped you, didn't he?"

"How I behave at work has nothing do with my feelings for Mr. Edgeworth."

"'Tain't just work, Lana. My Madonna says you've been like this everywhere."

"One: please don't refer to me by my first name when I'm on the clock. Two: don't pry into my personal life. It's nothing you should care about."

Jake said something in response, but Lana didn't pay attention. Instead, she just got into her car and walked off.

She and Jake had dated about two years ago, and it lasted for a year. In reality, it was little more than a mutual physical attraction. However, she did not realize it at the time. She had Angel Starr to thank for uncovering the truth, though. Starr was able to lure Jake into a rather passionate affair with her. Lana herself had been insistent on limiting just how passionate her relationship with Jake was, so it was only natural that he sought another outlet.

Lana thought she really loved him, but when she happened to overhear Starr mentioning Jake when showing off her never-decreasing list of boyfriends, she interrogated Jake. He was pretty good at lying, but there was more than enough evidence that he was in an affair with Starr. That was the end of their relationship. Lana concluded from how quickly she got past her feelings for Jake that those feelings were not actually love.

Almost the entire department reacted to the breakup—except for Miles. When he was on the clock, Miles focused on only his work; he cared nothing about what went on among the ranks unless it was relevant to a case he was handling. Gumshoe seemed attached to him, though, and Lana learned through him that Miles was not necessarily a bad person—he just had a passion for his work. Sure enough, he and Lana became good friends after Gumshoe proposed that they meet on their own time.

Jake had tried a few times to win Lana back, but when she fell in love with Miles, the attempts stopped rather abruptly. Besides, Jake had his Angel. Even if those two were willing to share their lovers, Lana was not.

* * *

Lana managed to return home without anyone noticing—save Katara, who almost always tried to go outside whenever the front door was opened. The only other place accessible to her was the balcony, which had a screen put up around it to prevent accidents. Ema was lying on her stomach on the living room floor, reading her chemistry textbook with the usual enthusiasm. Her pink-shaded glasses were over her eyes, which were eagerly looking at a diagram of a large molecule (large for a molecule, anyway). Her headphones were over her ears, which explained why she didn't hear the door open.

Katara, having yet again failed to escape, walked over to Ema and curled up on top of the textbook in the usual Burmese fashion.

"Hey!" Ema cried, pretending to be upset at the cat's behavior. "I was reading that, you know." The cat didn't move. She just looked up at Ema as if to say "Why pay attention to that when you can pay attention to me?" Ema lifted Katara up and placed her aside, noticing Lana.

"Oh! Lana, you're home!" Every part of her face seemed to smile. It had been long enough for her to know not to hug her older sister anymore, but she still smiled. Had it just been Miles Lana had to close herself off to, the SL-9 Incident would not have made her life so torturous. Building a wall between herself and her sister, though, was living Hell. Ema had an innocence about her that was impossible for adults to not notice, from her childish eyes to her adorable voice to her bright smile. Whenever Lana had company over, they would comment on how cute Ema was.

Oftentimes, Lana felt more like Ema's mother than her sister. For almost ten years, Lana had been handling all the tasks their parents handled: cooking, cleaning, driving, paying taxes, buying food and clothes, taking care of the cats (even though there was only one when their parents were alive), and, of course, raising Ema. Lana had had to mature faster than most Americans her age. In a matter of months, she had to learn how to keep their house running. Ultimately, they had to move to a condo, though. Lana was competent, but she was just a secretary when their parents died—not nearly a high enough income to pay the property taxes on the house they once lived in and keep herself and Ema happy and healthy.

"I've been trying to figure out how electric Pokémon use electricity," Ema started, repeatedly staring at the cat next to her, "but Katara keeps getting in the way."

_Naturally_, Lana thought. Ever since she was introduced to the show, Ema had been determined to scientifically explain how Pokémon were capable of using their attacks. She had gotten an A+ on a school project that explained how Fire Pokémon could breathe fire. It was mainly theoretical, but it made sense. That report was her pride and joy. A copy of it was in the bookshelf, easy to spot since it was the only binder on the shelf. Lana had been incredibly proud—not to mention amazed—at all the effort she had put into it.

"Have you done your homework already?" Lana asked.

"Yeah, it's all done," Ema replied.

"Prove it." It was uncommon, but when Ema was really excited about something, she would lie about doing her homework. She seemed rather eager to study electric attacks, so it was feasible that she had lied.

Ema got up and walked over to her backpack, taking out her binder and showing the assignment list. Then she proceeded to show Lana all of the assignments on the list—complete.

"There's your proof, Sis," Ema said, a slight smirk on her face from having disproved Lana's suspicion. She put the binder back, returned to the textbook (after getting Katara off of it again), and resumed work on her "studies."

Lana shrugged and walked over to the bookshelf, taking out a book to read. Soon enough, Barbara came and curled up on Lana's lap. The day had calmed down, and it stayed a quiet one. After what had happened at work, Lana was relieved that no other dangers awaited her. Living in the shadow of a terrible secret had a way of making one value the peaceful, boring days in which nothing significant happened.


	6. Part I, Chapter 5: The Demon Prosecutor

**Chapter 5—The Demon Prosecutor**

August 8, 2015

The gavel rang out, beginning yet another trial. John Grozny, another one of White's people, had been arrested—this time for murder. He was rather clever (the detective in charge of the investigation almost arrested the wrong person), but ultimately, thanks to information provided by Mia Fey, he became a suspect, and a search of his house revealed decisive evidence of his involvement in the murder.

"Court is now in session for the trial of Mr. John Grozny," the judge said. It was the same judge Miles usually had to convince of the defendant's guilt.

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," Miles said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," the defense attorney said. Miles had never faced Alice Payne in court before, but a fellow prosecutor—her father—had mentioned her more than enough.

_Hopefully, this lady is a tougher attorney than her father_, Miles thought. It had been a while since he had a good challenge.

"Mr. Edgeworth, your opening statement?" Judge Clous requested.

"Bluecorp—a powerful company that specializes in information," Miles began. "It is only natural that the employees know a large amount of secrets. John Grozny, the defendant, is an executive in said company. Like most executives, he is suspected of backroom dealings and blackmail. If someone—say, someone whose reputation was hurt by the company—managed to get her hands on a file revealing that truth, then that person would become a threat to Mr. Grozny.

"Ms. Ann Thrax, a woman suffering from a chronic illness who could not afford the proper medical care thanks to Bluecorp's revelation that she was an illegal immigrant, managed to obtain such a file. It goes without saying that she probably planned on blackmailing the company to pay for her medical care—or possibly just for revenge.

"The defendant's home was searched, and evidence of his involvement in the crime has been found. The prosecution stands to prove that Mr. Grozny killed Ms. Thrax in order to protect the secrets she had come across."

"The court acknowledges the prosecution, the judge said. "Please call your first witness, Mr. Edgeworth."

"The prosecution calls the detective in charge of the overall investigation, Detective Bruce Goodman, to the stand."

A calm-looking man in a white trench coat approached the stand.

"Witness, please state your name and occupation," Miles requested.

"Detective Bruce Goodman," the detective replied. "I was put in charge of the overall investigation of this case."

"Please testify to the court about the defendant's arrest," the judge said.

"Yes, Your Honor," Goodman said. "After receiving a lead from a third party, we were given a warrant to search the defendant's house. During the search, we found some evidence that implicated him in the murder and also established that the victim had at one point possessed a damaging file on Bluecorp. The file established his motive. In addition, his alibi could not be confirmed by any credible sources. So, we arrested him."

"Well, that certainly throws suspicion on him," the judge commented. "Ms. Payne, please begin your cross-examination."

"Understood, Your Honor," Payne answered. She thought for a moment. She had most likely picked up on some of the traps in the testimony.

"What exactly happened during the arrest?" she asked the detective. "You seemed rather vague about it in your testimony."

"Oh, well, his wife and son happened to be there when we searched his house. It really hurt to have to arrest Mr. Grozny in front of them."

"How old is his son?"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "The witness has answered the question."

"Objection sustained," the judge said."

After thinking for a moment, Payne decided to press a more dangerous part of the testimony. "Detective, you said my client's alibi could not be confirmed by any _credible_ sources. What sources were there and how did you come to decide their testimony was not credible?"

"The only source was Mr. Redd White, the CEO of Bluecorp. He said that Mr. Grozny was in a meeting with him. There was no proof, though."

"And how exactly does that make his testimony impermissible? I can't prove that I had toast for breakfast, but that doesn't mean I'm lying!"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "Ms. Payne, did you even listen to the detective's statement? Unless you have evidence proving that the defendant was in a meeting, your argument is nothing more than conjecture. In addition, the fact that Mr. Grozny is a valued employee of Mr. White costs him his credibility as a witness. Could we please continue?"

"Of course we can't!" she replied. "Just because someone is connected to the defendant doesn't mean they're not a credible witness! White might be able to prove that my client was in a meeting with him! He could be a decisive witness!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "Ms. Payne, 'might' and 'could be' are not going to suffice for a court of law. If you want Mr. White to be called to the witness stand, you will have to provide solid evidence that his testimony is credible." Miles had heard that Payne had been denied the right to testify in a case against her boyfriend because of her relationship with him. He was found guilty—a guarantee whenever Manfred von Karma is the prosecutor. He could have brought that up, but it might have been considered a personal attack on the defense.

Payne sighed. She thought again, then, sensing a trap ahead, asked another question. "Detective, about the file that 'established his motive…' How exactly is it connected to the crime? It could just have been an incriminating file that happened to be at my client's house during the search. What proof do you have that it's at all related to the murder?"

Goodman jumped a little at Payne's sudden change in tone. "Well, it… _is_… a file that incriminates Mr. Grozny. If it was stolen, then he'd definitely try to get it back—by any means necessary."

"But what proof is there that it was stolen?"

"Ah!" Goodman jumped again. He started rubbing his nose, something he often did when trying to think.

"Ms. Payne…" Miles started, his calm voice the complete opposite of Goodman's flustered yelps, "the forensics department examined the file at my request. I can safely say that this file was stolen by the victim. After all, her fingerprints were found on it. Ergo, the file is strongly connected to this case!"

"Erh!" Payne yelped. She seemed to fall backwards, hitting the back of her head on the wall behind her. She then bent her head forward and rubbed the area that was hit.

"Are you quite done, Ms. Payne?" Miles asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm not done yet." Payne looked back at the detective. She seemed hesitant, as though she knew that whatever she asked was going to spring another trap.

"Detective, who's this 'third party' who gave you a lead?" she asked.

"Defense attorney Mia Fey," Goodman replied.

"For those who are unaware," Miles cut in, "Ms. Fey has been looking into Bluecorp and its connection to crime in this district. She shared her files on Grozny with the police—much of the data in the file found in the defendant's house matched what Ms. Fey had uncovered in her files."

Payne sighed. "Okay…" She cringed. Miles knew what was next, and apparently, she had a good sense of the future, too. "About this…" She paused and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before continuing. "About this 'evidence that implicated him in the murder…' Just what is this evidence, and how does it implicate my client?"

"Well," Goodman started, "a very nice Blackhawk revolver was found mounted on the wall in his living room. Since the bullet found in the victim was a .38 Special, we examined the gun, even though Mr. Grozny said it was just a decoration. Sure enough, it had been fired recently. The ballistic markings on the bullet matched the gun."

"Oh my!" Judge Clous exclaimed. "You mean the defendant's gun was the one that committed the crime?"

"Objection!" Payne cried. "Detective, what kind of idiot would kill someone with a gun and then put that weapon on display in his living room? If I were the killer, I would have disposed of the weapon as soon as I got the chance!"

"Objection!" Miles countered. "Ms. Payne, perhaps you should put that attorney's badge of yours on display in your living room. The bullet that killed the victim was a .38 Special whose ballistic markings matched those of the defendant's 'decoration.' Regardless of how odd it is to hide the murder weapon in plain sight, the fact remains that this is what was done. If you're going to deny that, I suggest you present some evidence."

"Fingerprints," Payne said, rubbing her forehead with her left thumb and index finger in thought. "Whose fingerprints were on the gun?"

"No fingerprints were found on the gun," Miles answered. "It goes without saying that if one is going to hide the murder weapon, one might as well wipe off any fingerprints on it. Now, shall we move on? If the defense has no further questions, I would like to move on. Now that the defendant's motive has been established, in addition to the conclusive evidence against him, the prosecution will now establish that Mr. Grozny indeed had an opportunity to kill Ms. Thrax."

"Well, Ms. Payne?" the judge asked. "Anything else you need to know?"

"The defense would like to hear more about the Mr. Grozny's family."

"Mr. Edgeworth? Any objections?"

"The family is a dead end," Miles replied. "I will allow testimony about them if the defense allows the defendant to testify about the night of the crime afterwards."

"Well, Ms. Payne?"

Payne didn't answer. She rubbed her forehead with her left index finger, trying to think. Miles had made it apparent through his request that he believed the defendant's testimony would ultimately benefit the prosecution. In addition, he had also indicated through his proposal that he didn't see the testimony she requested as a threat to his case. She was most likely just trying to figure out if Miles was bluffing or he really was that confident.

Of course, the "safe" course was just as dangerous for the defense. After all, the crime scene had yielded some rather conclusive evidence that Grozny was there when the crime was committed.

"The defense accepts the prosecution's terms," Payne finally answered.

"Very well," Miles said. "Your Honor, I would like to temporarily relieve Detective Goodman from the stand. The prosecution would like to call a witness who can easily prove that the defendant was the only person in the family who had the opportunity to kill the victim."

"Request granted," the judge said. "Call your witness, Mr. Edgeworth."

"The prosecution calls Mrs. Anastasia Grozny to the stand. Her testimony will prove beyond all doubt that she and her son did not have an opportunity to commit the crime."

A woman in her thirties approached the stand.

"Witness, please state your name and occupation," Miles requested.

"Anastasia Grozny. I'm the manager of the Gatewater Hotel in La Jolla."

"Oh, my!" the judge cut in. "I remember that hotel. I sometimes stay there just to have their room service!"

"Could we please proceed with the testimony, Your Honor?" Miles asked.

"Of course. Witness, please testify about what you and your son were doing at the time of the crime."

"Okay," Mrs. Grozny said. She seemed hesitant. It was understandable, considering that she was testifying in her husband's trial. "Our son, Peter, is in a chorus. He had a concert that night, so I had to drive him. I had promised him I'd attend, so I was there until the concert was over. John said he had a few reports to file, so he couldn't come. So you see, my son and I both have an alibi."

"Indeed you do, Mrs. Grozny," the judge said. "Ms. Payne, you may cross-examine the witness."

"Mrs. Grozny, what chorus is Peter in?" Payne asked, obviously hoping to get an answer that she could prove to be false.

"The North Coast Singers," Mrs. Grozny answered. "I still have a program from their concert that night. Mr. Edgeworth asked me to bring it as proof of our alibi."

"Your Honor, this is the program from that concert," Miles said, handing the judge a green booklet. "If you look at the roster for Giocoso, you will see that Peter Grozny is indeed a member."

"Hmm… You're right," the judge said. "This does indeed prove that the witness's son was at the concert."

"Objection!" Payne cut in, as Miles knew she would. "All that proves is that the witness's son is in Giocoso! It does not prove that he was at the concert!"

"Objection!" Miles countered. "Ms. Payne, I will admit that the program does not conclusively confirm the witness's alibi, but it does establish how unlikely it is that the witness's son was the killer. After all, each singer's grade is shown in the program. Does the defense truly intend to accuse a second-grader of murder?"

The gallery started jeering at Payne. The judge banged his gavel, silencing them.

"I never said that the witness's son was the killer," Payne said. "The defense concedes that Peter Grozny is unlikely to have been the killer. However, this does not clear the witness herself!"

"Then please continue with your cross-examination, Ms. Payne," Miles said.

"Mrs. Grozny," Payne started, returning to the witness, "how many cars does your family own?"

"Two," Mrs. Grozny replied. "I use one to go to work, and John uses the other for his job."

"What about your son?"

"Objection!" Miles cut in. "What does this have to do with the case? I can understand asking about the number of cars, but asking about where the witness's son goes after school?"

"Objection sustained," the judge said. "Ms. Payne, please stick to the case itself."

Payne sighed. She then continued. "You said your husband 'had a few reports to file,' correct?"

"What about it?" Mrs. Grozny asked.

"What were those reports?"

"I have no idea, Ms. Payne."

"You have no idea? I'd think they'd have to be pretty important for—"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "Have you forgotten what the defendant is on trial for, Ms. Payne? He simply said that to give himself an opportunity to commit the crime he is accused of. Or perhaps you have proof that the defendant did indeed file reports?"

Payne sighed again and pressed her hand against her forehead. "I have no proof," she said. "Going back to the alibi aspect, there's no decisive proof that you and your son had an alibi. Yes, the concert you claim to have attended is real, but there's no proof you were at it. What proves beyond all doubt that you were there?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Miles chuckled. "Of course there's proof. One thing Mrs. Grozny told me about the concert was that it was filmed by a few people in the audience. I had Detective Goodman track a few of them down and get copies of their videos. Both Mrs. Grozny and her son were caught in this one quite well." Miles took a video out of the bag behind his desk and put it on his desk.

The bailiff, catching the cue, went out and brought in a television set. The video was put in, and Miles fast-forwarded to a part in which both Mrs. Grozny and her son were visible. The gallery started murmuring, quickly being silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Well done, Mr. Edgeworth," the judge said. "You never seem to miss a spot in your investigations."

"I make sure to be prepared," Miles said, taking a bow.

"Ms. Payne, any further questions?" the judge asked.

"I'd like to take a look at this video," she answered.

_How predictable_, Miles thought. He knew that by holding the video back, he would be able to trick the defense into thinking there was a problem with it.

After some time and some untrained singing voices, Payne placed her left elbow on her desk and grasped her forehead with her hand. She had apparently realized that it was a trap.

"Will that be all with the video, Ms. Payne?" Miles asked, sure of the answer.

"The defense has no further questions for this witness," she answered, removing her hand from her forehead.

"Then, as per the deal, you will allow your client to take the stand and testify."

"Before we do that, however," the judge added, "we will take a ten minute recess."

* * *

"Sir, why didn't you tell me about the fingerprints on the file?" Goodman asked Miles in the Prosecution Lobby.

"I didn't think it was necessary," Miles answered. "Besides, it made for a good trap for Ms. Payne."

"A trap, sir?"

"Defense attorneys will use every weapon at their disposal to prove their clients not guilty. Thus, we sometimes need to harm their credibility."

"Well, uh…" Goodman let the thought trail off. He had no suitable response. "Uh… How do you think the defendant will behave, sir?"

"He will no doubt lie to protect himself. If Ms. Payne fails to point out those lies, I will do so myself, getting her a sizable penalty in the process."

* * *

The judge's gavel began what would no doubt be the final phase of the trial.

"Bailiff, please escort the defendant to the stand," the judge ordered. The bailiff led Mr. Grozny to the stand and stood next to him in case he tried to flee.

"Mr. Grozny," Miles started, "I would like you to testify to the court about the night of the crime. Just what were you doing at the time?"

"I was filing some reports, just as my wife testified. Peter and Ana were at the concert, so I had the house to myself. After I was done with the reports, I watched a little TV. Then my family returned. I never left the house at all."

Miles chuckled. He knew the defendant was lying.

"Please begin the cross-examination, Ms. Payne," the judge requested.

"I'm sorry to ask you about something that your company might consider classified, but it's critical to your case," Payne said. "What were the reports about?"

"They were on the scandal involving Aaron Space," Mr. Grozny answered. "I had been tasked with cleaning up the mess he had made with the company's money."

"Where's your proof?" Payne asked.

"The reports have probably been filed away in the company's HQ."

"Please amend your testimony about the reports, Mr. Grozny," Payne said.

"Okay. The reports were on Aaron Space's crimes."

"Objection!" Payne shouted. "Mr. Grozny, don't lie to me. I'm supposed to be on your side, but I can only defend you if you tell the truth."

"What?"

"I spoke with Detective Goodman during the investigation. He said the reports in your office about Space were dated almost a month ago. What were you doing filing old reports?"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel. "Mr. Edgeworth, your thoughts?" the judge asked.

"You don't need them; it's obvious what I think," Miles said, his arms crossed.

"Defendant, what do you have to say about this contradiction?"

"I'm pleading the fifth," Mr. Grozny said.

The gallery started up again, silenced by the gavel.

"In that case," Miles started, "the prosecution would like to present decisive evidence of the defendant's location when the crime was committed."

"What's your evidence?" the judge asked.

"A doorknob." Miles took out a cut-out portion of a wooden door. The lock below the doorknob was very severely damaged—it looked as though something hard had smashed it.

"A doorknob?"

"Not just any doorknob, though. This doorknob is from the victim's front door—and it is teeming with the defendant's fingerprints."

"Objection!" Payne cut in. "That only proves my client has been to the victim's house."

"Objection!" Miles countered. "Don't tell me you can't see the damage that was done to the lock. This was clearly a break-in. Yes, the defendant attempted to break into the victim's house and steal the incriminating file. However, the victim was home. When she saw the defendant, she panicked, making herself known. Mr. Grozny, fearing he would be turned in to the police, shot her."

The judge closed his eyes. "Yes, it's becoming very clear to me now." He banged his gavel. "This court sees no reason to further prolong this trial. The case is very clear to me, and I have no need to further look into it."

"Objection!" Payne interrupted. "The doorknob only proves my client broke into the house! There's no proof that he did that when the victim was being killed!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "Actually, there is proof," he said more calmly, knowing the end was near. "The victim's blood was found on this." Miles took a briefcase out of his bag. The case was not damaged at all, but it had a bloodstain on it. "What makes this important is that the defendant's fingerprints are on it. Specifically, they are on top of the bloodstain." He slammed his right hand against his desk. "Ergo, the defendant was at the scene of the crime after the murder was committed!"

"Objection!" Payne countered. "That doesn't prove—"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "Doesn't prove that he was there _when_ the crime was committed? Do you know how close the victim's house is to a police station? One block! The police were there in less than a minute! If the defendant had broken in after the crime was committed, he would have been arrested on the spot! He had no time to break in and flee without being noticed by the police!"

The whack of the judge's gavel echoed through the courtroom, silencing the gallery, which had been getting noisier ever since Payne objected to the doorknob. "That's enough!" the judge barked. "Ms. Payne, I commend you for your effort, but I see no reason to doubt the prosecution's case. I will give you one last chance to turn this case around. If what you do does not bring to light anything important that the prosecution cannot counter, I will render my verdict right then and there."

Payne thought. It was all too obvious what she was thinking. _What is there to prove? What can turn this case around?_

"Mr. Edgeworth," Payne finally started, "you said the police were there in less than a minute, right?"

Miles held his hands open and shook his head. "I know what you're going to ask. 'How could my client have fled in that time?' It's simple." Miles started wagging his left index finger. "The briefcase was found very close to the door. All he had to do was shoot the victim and steal the file."

"Exactly. Where was the file? I imagine my client would have needed more than a minute to search the victim's house for a file."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Miles chuckled. "I'm so sorry, but I forgot to mention one other thing the file clears up: the defendant's opportunity. You see, the victim's blood was found on the file. Now, where exactly was the victim shot?"

"Ack!" Payne fell backwards and hit the back of her head on the wall behind her.

"The front door," Miles answered. "Therefore, the defendant needed only a matter of seconds to steal the file. It was just bad luck for him that the victim was home. If she had only been out at the moment, no one would have died."

"Indeed," the judge said. "Ms. Payne, it appears your objection has fallen flat. Therefore, I am prepared to hand down my verdict. This court finds the defendant, Mr. John Grozny, guilty. The accused will surrender to the court immediately, to be held pending trial at a higher court within a month from today's date. That is all. The court is adjourned!"

When Miles left the courthouse, he saw Gumshoe waiting for him.

"How'd it go, sir?" Gumshoe asked.

"Guilty, as always," Miles replied.

"Man, you're the best, pal. You're such a good prosecutor that people are starting rumors about you."

"I've heard a few of them. They say I'm more merciless than Genghis Khan."

"Who's that again?"

"A ruthless leader, a vicious warrior, and a mighty conqueror. He led the Mongols and expanded their empire across much of Eurasia. The empire collapsed shortly after he died, however."

"Wow. That must mean you're pretty good."

"A good prosecutor, yes. I've gotten a lot of enemies from being so good, though. Some have taken to calling me 'The Demon Prosecutor.'"

"Well, don't let it get you down, sir."

"It may offend me as a person," Miles started, "but as a prosecutor, it is nothing short of a compliment. You know you're good when people falsely accuse you of playing dirty to reach the top."


	7. Part I, Chapter 6: Happy Birthday

**Chapter 6—Happy Birthday. I Wish I Could Say That…**

October 17, 2015

Lana picked up Katara in her arms a few seconds after entering their condo. She struggled a bit, but after Lana pushed the door shut with one of her legs, the little cat calmed down. Ema came trotting up shortly after Lana placed Katara on the floor.

"Can I have my presents now?" Ema asked excitedly.

"Have you done your homework?" Lana asked in response.

Ema's bright smile turned into a begging frown. "Aw, Sis, it's my birthday! Can't homework wait?"

"It may be your birthday, but it's also Monday. And I think your response answers my question."

"I promise I'll finish it before tomorrow!"

"I don't want you staying up late to finish your homework. Once it's done, you can have your presents."

With a sigh, Ema walked off to her backpack, intentionally dragging her feet to emphasize how disappointed she was. Lana managed to maintain the indifferent face she had had almost six months to master, although on the inside, she was saddened by her sister's reaction.

Lana walked off to her room. Barbara was curled up on the bed. Lana lay down on the side that Barbara had not taken. Almost instantly, Barbara got up and curled up on Lana's chest. Had the cat curled up any closer to her neck, she would have been worried about choking. With her right hand, Lana started petting Barbara while she removed her muffler with her left hand. She was at home, so she didn't feel odd taking it off.

The muffler had a somewhat special meaning to her. She had first gotten it when she began law school, and it had been a part of her everyday wardrobe ever since. About two years later, she met Mia, who absolutely loved the muffler and got one of her own—albeit a different color (she had said she hated how she looked in red). When Lana was dating Miles, he commented a few times on how well it contrasted her usually stiff outfits—a rarity for a fair number of San Diegan women these days, considering the climate.

She was starting to question whether or not she should keep living in San Diego. The mostly warm weather made her preferred way of dressing a bad choice, yet she always felt uncomfortable showing too much skin—even though she knew plenty of women who didn't hesitate to show off more. The muffler was useful in that regard, too; it made her feel as if she was more covered up than she really was. Of course, another reason for wanting to leave San Diego was the fact that she and Ema were prone to nosebleeds during the summer due to the dry weather. There was also the horrible traffic, the pitiful public transit, the unchecked development of land, and much more. How much they disliked San Diego was the starting topic of the first conversation she had with Miles. The memory surfaced, although it had probably been warped a little, considering that it was not fresh.

* * *

Lana and Mr. Edgeworth had been sitting on that bench together for a few minutes without saying anything. Both were waiting for the other to pick a topic.

_This is getting nowhere fast_, Lana thought.

"Nice weather today," Lana said in a pitiful attempt at small talk. Weather was a cop-out, but when nothing else came to mind, it served its purpose. It was overcast, so she figured there would be some witty comeback from Edgeworth.

"Agreed," Edgeworth said.

Lana chuckled. "You're the first person I've met who likes clouds."

"Too much sunlight bothers me; it reflects off of everything and makes it a pain to go outside."

"Same here. The sunlight is one of the reasons I want to leave this city."

"The others being?"

"Traffic and bad public transit, for starters."

"Some of the worst traffic in the country," Edgeworth said. "Nothing compared to Los Angeles, but still not something I enjoy driving in."

"The dryness is also a pain. Every summer, Ema and I get nosebleed after nosebleed."

"Ema?"

"My little sister. I've had to keep an eye on her ever since our parents died."

Edgeworth was silent.

"You're not sorry?" Lana asked, a tad offended.

"It's not my fault that your parents are dead, so there's no need for me to apologize. It's not nice to hear about such things, though."

Lana sighed. Well, at least he cared. He just… didn't show it in the way most people did.

* * *

There was much more they had talked about that day, but that was the only part Lana remembered well enough. It was amazing that such a difficult start ended up leading to love. Miles's "father" had given him quite a suit of armor, but underneath it was a very passionate man with a great respect for the wisdom of others—and a great disrespect for the stupidity of others. He was a very kind person once one got to know him. Even Gumshoe had managed to become friends with him despite his own stupidity—although the friendship was rather… special. On the surface, it looked as if Miles couldn't stand him.

"All done, sis!" Ema chirped from the doorway. She came in with her notebook to prove she had done her homework.

"So be it," Lana said, lightly pushing Barbara off. When she got up, Barbara curled up on the warm spot she had left behind.

Lana walked over to her closet and took out Ema's presents, struggling—although successfully—to maintain an indifferent expression. When Ema got the first present, she hastily tore the wrapping paper right off. A book on chemical reactions. The second present was a set of chemicals—with a note—typed by Lana—attached to the box that warned Ema to use them outside and to avoid making any messes. Punishment for disobeying would be a one-week ban from all electronic devices except when necessary for doing homework. The third gift was a bunch of containers—flasks, test tubes, beakers, graduated cylinders, and the like.

When Ema was done opening the presents, she ran up to Lana and gave her a hug and a "Thank you, Lana," although the hug was not returned.

"What's wrong?" Ema asked, noticing that Lana's arms were not around her.

"I just don't feel like a hug," Lana lied. Truth be told, she could use a hug to cheer her up, but she couldn't get one. She had to break off from Ema—it was the only way to keep her from getting involved in SL-9 again.

"Please?" Ema begged, her innocent eyes wide open and trying to look Lana in the eye. She avoided her sister's gaze until Ema sighed sadly and returned her eyes to their normal position. "Why can't you just give me one as a birthday present?"

"I said I didn't feel like a hug." Ema let go. Lana could tell from the look in her eyes that she was about to cry. Ema took her presents and ran off to her own room before the tears could come out.

_I was hoping it wouldn't come to this_, Lana thought, picking up the wrapping paper strewn on the floor. _Why couldn't she have just taken her presents and left without pushing for love?_ The answer was obvious enough for even Judge Clous to notice: Ema loved her sister. And yet Lana could do nothing; as long as the shadow of SL-9 loomed over her head, she had to build a wall around herself—even if it meant alienating the people she loved.


	8. Part I, Chapter 7: Limits

Author's Note: Due to the location of this chapter, the characters involved will not be speaking English. A translated version of the chapter can be found at the following URLs: **#p567871** and **.com/The_Black_?showtopic=4480&view=findpost&p=2300244**. Also, thanks to henryjustice of Court Records for providing me with the translated dialogue.

* * *

**Chapter 7—Limits**

December 21, 2015

_Beglückt darf nun dich, o Heimat, ich schauen_

_und grüßen froh deine lieblichen Auen;_

_nun laß ich ruhn den Wanderstab,_

_weil Gott getreu ich gepilgert hab._

A familiar chorus from _Tannhäuser_ echoed through the halls of Manfred von Karma's Dresden mansion. The opera was Miles's personal favorite (next to _Mazeppa_, but in this house, praising "Russian cacophonies" was a greater taboo than tracking mud on the perfectly-made rugs that lined the center of the entry hall). Although the mansion itself had the appearance and interior of a Baroque palace, it was actually completely machine-made only five years ago. Every last millimeter of the structure had been done perfectly. There was not one flaw in the sculpting of the gargoyles on the balcony, the placement of the red bricks, the carving of intricate designs into the walls and ceiling.

_Durch Sühn und Buß hab ich versöhnt_

_den Herren, dem mein Herze frönt,_

_der meine Reu mit Segen krönt,_

_den Herren, dem mein Lied ertönt,_

The tapping of von Karma's cane on the floor above him reached Miles's ears. It was at a very precise tempo. The slow speed and perfect timing of the landing was proof that the cane itself was just for show—no one who actually needed a cane for walking would use it with such perfection. Miles stood still and waited for the sound to pass. He never liked visiting his "father." He had been invited over for Christmas and only accepted because he felt like visiting Germany again.

Von Karma himself was a terrifying man once one got to know him. Everything he did was so perfect and precise that he did not seem human. When anything caused a problem with his life, he would completely and utterly destroy it. Even Franziska and Therese, his own daughters, expressed difficulty in staying on his microscopic good side. A less-known fact was that he had a deep-running grudge against all things Russian. He was born and raised in East Germany under the red shadow of the Soviet Union. His parents both despised the Soviets—his father "disappeared" in 1967. All he knew about Germany's true history was told to him by his parents—both of whom had strongly supported the Führer from the beginning—after all, the family prospered greatly under him.

_den Herren, dem mein Lied ertönt!_

The orchestra joined the chorus, producing a marvelous accompaniment. The best part was next. Were no one else around, Miles would have sung along. It wasn't a behavior that went along with his outward personality, but it was something he liked to do when he was alone; it reminded him of his real father, who would often sing along when listening to opera in the car—if he knew the libretto, that is. However, since he knew von Karma would explode at him if he joined in, Miles simply sang along in his mind.

_Der Gnade Heil ist dem Büßer beshieden,_

_er geht einst ein in der Seligen Frieden;_

_vor Höll und Tod ist ihm nicht bang,_

_drum preis ich Gott mein Lebelang._

Miles's mental singing was interrupted when he heard the sound of Franziska's high heels muffled by the soft rug. Knowing better than to stand in her way, Miles stepped to one side—just in time, too, apparently, as Franziska's whip hit the spot where he was standing a moment ago with a loud whack.

"Franziska!" von Karma yelled from wherever he was. "Du übertönst die Musik!"

_Halleluja!_

_Halleluja_

_in Ewigkeit!_

_in Ewigkeit!_

"Nach dir," Miles said softly to Franziska, motioning for her to go ahead. It was a rule at von Karma's mansion. When you're on German soil, you speak German.

"Es ist unhöflich, sich in den Weg zu stellen, Miles Edgeworth," Franziska responded at the same volume with her usual superior tone of voice. She would almost always tell her victims why she whipped them, literally adding insult to injury.

"Deswegen trat ich zur Seite, als ich dich kommen hörte." Miles was tempted to add "und jetzt versperrst du den Weg," but he knew that that would be answered with the whip.

"Ruhe!" von Karma shouted. Miles thought they were speaking quietly, but apparently they were not quiet enough. Miles simply motioned for Franziska to pass, which she did. Miles then went to his room to get his coat and snow boots. After putting them on, he went to the garden. He wouldn't have to worry about disturbing his "father" there, even if it was below freezing out there. Besides, dinner would be ready soon, so he didn't expect to be out there for long.

A light blanket of snow—about half an inch or so—covered the plants. The brick path was completely devoid of snow, however. All of the snow from the path had been made into a snowman by Therese's daughter, Birgit. The snowman was rather plain, however, as von Karma had not allowed his granddaughter to use branches from the plants or pebbles from the planters as body parts. As such, much of the body was carefully crafted from the snow.

"Miles Edgeworth," a male voice said. "Bist du es?" Miles turned his head. It was Tobias Becker, Therese's husband.

"Es ist lange her gewesen, Herr Becker," Miles said.

"Hah! Ich sehe, dein Akzent ist derselbe, der er mal war."

Miles did not respond. It was true that he had a horrible accent when speaking German, but he did not like being reminded of that fact.

"Entschuldigung," Becker said.

"Was machst du draußen? Es friert unten." Miles would have thought he would be the only one outside. However, there was Becker, out in the cold.

"Im Vergleich drinnen mit Graf Perfekt zu sein, würde ich liebe frieren."

_Of course_, Miles thought. Von Karma got along with Becker about as well as he got along with Miles's father. Becker was a lowly factory worker while Manfred was the world's best—and wealthiest—prosecutor. Both of them did not hesitate to play off of the other's weaknesses. Von Karma frequently accused Becker of marrying Therese just to get a part of the von Karma family fortune. Becker, on the other hand, would often say that von Karma would place a wealthy alcoholic above a low-born visionary. Of course, their conflicting personalities only worsened the conflict. Becker was lighthearted and kind while von Karma was cold and serious. Fortunately, their arguments were always verbal only. Becker had no interest in violence, and von Karma said he would not waste his perfect cane on someone so worthless.

"Vater, Herr Edgeworth!" a voice called from the door to the mansion. Miles looked over and saw a little girl standing in the doorway—Birgit. "Es ist Essenszeit!!"

Miles walked in after Becker and followed him to the dining hall. A white tablecloth covered the long table. The table was much longer than necessary; only six people were over including von Karma himself, yet there was enough room for at least twenty people. Von Karma was standing at his end of the table, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Though he was not a polite man, he observed perfect table manners. When everyone was at their seat, he motioned for everyone to sit down.

"Guten appetit," von Karma said before serving himself. Everyone else started serving themselves, as well.

"So, Herr Edgeworth," Therese started, "Ich höre, du hast eine Verlobte?" She had probably heard about the engagement from Franziska.

"Hatte," Miles corrected. "Etwas kam zur Sprache, also mussten wir unsere Verlobung für die Zeit abbrechen." No need to go into detail.

"Wer?"

"Eine Frau namens Lana Skye."

"Lana?" von Karma cut in. "Das ist ein komischer Name." Miles mentally braced himself for a tirade about Russians.

"Es ist die Kurzform von Swetlana," Miles replied.

Von Karma pounded the table with his left fist, startling everyone there except Miles, who knew it was coming.

"Eine _Russin_?!" he bellowed.

"Nur von der Abstammung," Miles responded, taking special care not to raise his voice and further upset his host. It was true that Lana was of Russian descent, but she was born and raised in the US.

"Hah! 'Nur von der Abstammung?'" Von Karma snapped his fingers. "Therese wurde in Amerika geboren, und bis jetzt ist ihre Abstammung deutlich in ihrem Benehmen wiedergespiegelt!"

"Herr von Karma, obwohl du mein Mentor für Anklage bist, kannst du mir nicht lehren, wie ich mein Leben lebe." Considering that Lana's mother had defected and her father was a third-generation American, Miles did not see how Lana's descent made her dangerous. Still, it was better just to try to change the subject than get into an argument. "Ich bin nicht interessiert, über die Frau, die ich liebe, zu streiten, also wechsle bitte das Thema."

"Pah! Was weißt du schon über Liebe?!" von Karma demanded, trying to push into an argument.

"Genug, um zu wissen, wenn ich verliebt bin," Miles answered, maintaining a calm tone. This was getting ridiculous. First it was about Lana being Russian, then it changed to Miles's knowledge of love (or lack thereof).

"Alle Russinen sind dieselben—verführen gestandene Männer, bis sie so hilflos verlockt von ihnen sind, dass sie alles tun." Great. Now he was spewing out fallacies. No matter; von Karma had no proof that Russian women were the way he pictured them.

"Vater, hör bitte auf," Therese requested, trying to mimic the calm in Miles's voice, but clearly somewhat upset at her father's behavior.

"Ich würde gerne das Thema wechseln und einfach essen," Miles added. "Kein Streit wird ändern, was ich über Lana denke."

"Akzeptiert," Therese said.

"Mutter, was ist eine Russin?" Birgit asked, her curiosity and ignorance making her unaware of how much that worsened von Karma's mood. Her grandfather was the first to respond.

"Russen sind grausame Menschen die uns Deutschen für Jahrhu—"

"Vater, das ist genug!" Therese interrupted. "Lass und einfach das Thema wechseln."

"Aber was ist ein Russe?" Birgit insisted.

"I werde dir mehr erzählen, nachdem wir entschuldigt sind," Therese told her daughter. "Aber sei jetzt bitte geduldig. Dein Großvater mag Russen nicht, also sollten wir nicht über sie reden, wenn er in der Nähe ist."

_That's an understatement_, Miles thought. He began eating, hoping that that would be enough to tell von Karma that he was done arguing.

Von Karma glared at Miles, but decided he wasn't going to win and began eating. Everyone else took the hint and began eating, as well. Occasionally, Birgit was reprimanded for putting her hands below the table or other minor breaches of dining etiquette. Other than that, the dinner table remained silent until everyone was excused.

"Herr Edgeworth," von Karma called before Miles could leave the dining hall.

"Ja?"

"Erwähne Russland nicht nochmal in diesem Haus. Ich würde dir auch sehr empfehlen, Swetlana zu vergessen."

_I knew he would bring up Lana_, Miles thought.

"Ich werde Russland nicht mehr erwähnen," Miles started, "aber meine Romanze geht dich nichts an."

"Bah. So stolz wie eh und je." Von Karma shook his head.

_Well, I've learned from the master_, Miles thought.

"Offen gesagt, I hatte genug von deinem Stolz gehabt," von Karma continued. "Lerne, bescheiden zu sein oder verlasse mein Haus."

"Wenn du mit 'lerne, bescheiden zu sein' meinst, Lana fallen zu lassen, dann erscheint es mir, dass ich nicht mehr willkommen bin."

"Vater, hör auf, dies anzusprechen," Therese said. Miles and von Karma had been so focused on each other that neither had noticed her. "Ich mag Russland auch nicht, aber du hast nicht das Recht, dich in Herrn Edgeworths Leben einzumischen."

"Du auch, Therese?" von Karma growled, turning to his daughter.

"Therese, ich brauche hier deine Unterstützung nicht," Miles said. "Es scheint mir, dass unser Gastgeber mich nicht mehr willkommen sieht." Miles extended his hand for von Karma. "Danke sehr für the Bewirtung, Herr von Karma," Miles said. "Ich entschuldige mich, nicht ein besserer Gast gewesen zu sein."

Von Karma refused Miles's hand and simply crossed his arms. "Versuch nicht, ritterlich daherzukommen," he sneered. "Du hast mich schon beleidigt. Nimm einfach deinen Kram und hau ab."

"So ist es. Bis wir uns wieder treffen." Miles walked away to the room he was staying in and started packing his belongings. He had had a feeling he would get into an argument with von Karma, so he had been prepared. He took a piece of paper with a phone number out of his pocket and called the number.

"Hallo, Hotel Taschenbergpalast?" he said into his cell phone. "Ist die Kronprinzensuite noch verfügbar?"


	9. Part I, Chapter 8: Blinding Light

**Chapter 8—Blinding Light**

March 27, 2016

When Lana returned to her office from her lunch break, she saw that there was an envelope on her desk. As she got closer, she recognized the handwriting as belonging to Miles.

_Probably a thank-you note_, she thought. After sitting down, she opened the envelope and read the letter inside.

My dearest Lana,

Thank you for the tea. It pleases me to know that you still care about me.

With love,

Miles

Lana had dropped off some expensive whole leaf black tea in Miles's office before work as a birthday present—she knew how much of a tea connoisseur he was. It didn't exactly say "I love you," but the short letter she had left with it did. It was little more than a way of showing Miles that she had not forgotten about him and that she looked forward to her freedom—and, hopefully, their wedding.

There was a knock on the door of the office. Before Lana could allow the person to come in, the door was opened. Gant walked in. Lana put away the letter from Miles.

"What innocent person do you want condemned this time?" she asked, making sure to emphasize in her tone of voice how much she hated him.

"Oh, no, no, no," Gant said, his hands clasped and a jolly smile on his face concealing the fiendish mind behind it. "This isn't about forging evidence. This is about you, Lana."

"Don't call me by my first name," Lana said through gritted teeth. "You don't deserve that honor."

"Fine. Skye, the detectives want you to stop participating in the investigations. They say you make them nervous."

"It's only natural; their salary's at stake if they miss anything. But then again, you _want_ them to miss some things, don't you?"

"Now, now, I don't mess with every case, Ms. Skye. I just make sure White doesn't get in a mess."

"It seems more and more people are becoming threats to him."

Gant laughed. "Well, some of them are threats to me—or you."

"Why would you ever help me? I have nothing on you."

"Because if you got in trouble, I'd lose my best tool!"

"Hah. You could just make someone else's innocent sister look like a killer."

Gant laughed loudly. He was then silent. "Now, Ms. Skye, you and I both know your little sister is the reason—"

At that moment, Gant was struck hard in the face by a well-thrown pen holder—complete with pens.

"My sister is _INNOCENT!_" Lana exploded, standing up so her body language could better express her rage. "You only framed her so you could control me! You and I both know Darke killed Marshall!" Lana stopped to breathe. She realized her hands were shaking, her breath intense and oozing hatred.

Gant's left hand was on his nose. He reached into his coat pocket and took out a bag of tissues. Lana noticed that his nose was bleeding. No matter. He deserved much worse than that.

She had no proof that Gant had framed Ema, but she couldn't believe that her sister would kill someone, even by accident. She hoped that by pressing him, she could get more answers. Someone had framed Ema, possibly inadvertently, but no evidence existed that explained who had done it or how. Perhaps Darke had shoved Marshall into the sword and then been knocked out somehow when Ema struggled. Perhaps Gant knew. Still, it was futile to try to draw the answers out of him.

"I used to be a kind woman who never wished death on anyone," Lana said, rage still overflowing from every word. "After what you did to me and Ema, I am no longer that person. I sometimes sit here thinking about ways to kill you without implicating anyone."

"Too bad you can't," Gant gloated. "Until the day I die, you'll be doing every little thing I want. Now, about the investigations…"

"I won't participate in them anymore."

"Good girl."

Lana glared at him with such intensity that even Miles's glares looked weak in comparison. "Now get out," she spat. "Soil your own office with your foul blood."

After Gant left, Lana collapsed into her chair. No matter how much she insulted him, no matter how many ways she harmed him, he still came out on top. The feeling of powerlessness was so familiar by now that she had almost grown used to it; like the hellish traffic that plagued Interstate 5, it was an unwelcome part of her life. Her mind again drifted toward the torment of feeling weak and helpless as her fate was dictated by the actions of others. She had almost no control over her own life.

Realizing that she was entering a painful area of thought, Lana attempted to divert her mind toward the few things in her life that were absolute and good. Miles still loved her. That much was a fact. He was still painstakingly navigating the darkness contained within SL-9.

No, even that was not absolute. What if Miles discovered the truth? Even knowing that Lana had lied to him, given him falsified evidence, helped him prove innocent people guilty, even knowing that, would he still love her? And what about Ema? What terrible fate would await her if Miles learned the truth? Lana could not believe that Ema would kill Marshall, even by accident. It had to be Darke. But how could she possibly prove that? It was impossible.

She had met a composer who tended to make references to light and darkness, how they are two sides of the same coin. In staying within the grasp of SL-9's shadows, she was under the control of a fiendish man, yet in allowing such shame to befall her, her precious sister, Ema, would be safe. The light that Gant kept locked up and concealed would burn right through her heart if it was ever unleashed. Though she would be free from Gant's dungeon, Ema would be believed to be a murderer, and Miles would surely abandon his love for her and never look back. The light would shine so brightly for all who saw it that few, if any, would see all there was to see. Lana was the only one who knew the truth and had any cause to reveal it all. There was no way that anyone would believe her, though. Gant would incriminate Ema in an instant if his light was unleashed, blinding people to the truth that she was framed, the truth that Lana only forged evidence to hide a lie. Some lies could not be defeated by the truth alone.

No wonder Miles held onto his pride so tightly. He knew how torturous it was to feel weak, to be unaware of one's own path. He had his doubts about his way of prosecuting, but he kept them under lock and key. As long as he looked only at his job, to prove people guilty, and took it at face value, he would at least know what he had to do. That was what Lana was trying to imitate. In looking only at what was before her, she could tolerate her situation. If she ever thought about how her actions hurt Miles or Ema, though, she started to feel weak.

Still, that was the path she had chosen. The kind lady who always looked out for others, listened to them when they had problems, went out of her way to help them, and worked tirelessly to ensure no innocent people were arrested, was dead. It was possible that she could have stayed that way, but that meant others would take an interest in her problems—an interest that would threaten Ema's future. She also didn't want to deal with the torment of turning away help when it was offered. For Ema, and for herself, the old Lana had chosen death over a life of pity and helplessness.


	10. Part I, Chapter 9: Things Come Together

**Chapter 9—Things Start to Come Together**

May 5, 2016

Miles cautiously inched his car into a parking space. The roar of the traffic on Interstate 5 invaded his ears the instant he got out. When he opened the passenger-side front door, Pess hopped out and sat down, waiting for Miles to attach the leash to his collar.

Pess was the result of Miles's first experiment in having a pet. He felt a tad lonely when he first moved to the US to begin prosecuting, so he adopted Pess from a shelter to have a companion. His previous owner had moved to the UK and didn't want him to go through quarantine, so he left Pess at the shelter. Though Pess was generally a good companion from the start, Miles took special care to train him to exhibit more preferable behaviors, such as sitting still in the car, obeying vocal commands, and waiting for him to attach a leash to his collar. Ever since then, the young black Eurasier had been Miles's close friend and bridge to nature.

A few days ago, he had received a call from Mia. Her manner of speaking told him that the information she intended to share was sensitive. Specifically, she had started the topic asking about Chief Gant's health. When Miles got suspicious of her reason for asking, she just said that his _White_ hair seemed unhealthy to her and that she wanted to know if it was the stress of his job that caused it. She then asked if Miles had ever been to De Anza Cove. Simply put, she wanted to meet Miles at De Anza Cove to talk about a connection between Gant and White.

The meeting point was a fair distance from where Miles had parked. He had decided ahead of time that he would arrive fifteen minutes early so that he could walk to De Anza Cove with Pess—they both needed the exercise. Upon attaching the leash and locking the car, Miles looked to Pess.

"Let's go," he said. Pess started walking. After the leash was no longer touching the ground in any area, Miles walked in the same direction. De Anza Cove was a small section of Mission Bay Park, a large park on the coast a short drive north of downtown. The legendary Sea World was much better known than the park that almost completely surrounded it. Miles had no fondness of theme parks; they were too noisy, too messy, too crowded, and the majority of the attractions did not appeal to him. The Skytower was the only part of the theme park he could see, though, pointing up to the heavens, a pod on the outside of the tower climbing up to the top and then back to the ground while rotating, giving everyone inside a view of the surrounding area.

"Sit," Miles said when they approached an intersection. Miles caught up and waited alongside his canine friend for the signal to change and let them cross. A car pulled up to the red light. The windows were down and some infernal rap was blaring. Pess's ears moved, trying to muffle the sound of what some so laughably called music.

A moment later, a second car, also with the windows down, came to the light and stopped next to the rap driver. Miles could hear _The Battle of Poltava_ out that car's windows. The first driver turned up his volume. The second driver responded in kind. The rap driver turned up his volume again until _Poltava_ was almost completely drowned out. A moment later, _Poltava_ reached an incredibly loud portion, almost entirely overpowering the rap. The rap driver, defeated, turned his volume down and closed his windows. Miles looked over, amused. He noticed that the second driver appeared to be laughing as he lowered his own volume.

After the two drivers drove off, the signal changed, allowing Miles and Pess to cross.

"Let's go," he said. Pess started walking, Miles following. The remainder of the walk was relatively uneventful. Someone asked to pet Pess and was allowed a little time to do so, a veritable armada of gulls circled over a picnicking family, and a slacking patrolman on duty became rigid upon noticing Miles.

When they arrived at the arranged meeting spot, Mia was not there, which was understandable—he was a bit early, after all. He took a seat at a picnic table and commanded Pess to lie down in the grass next to the table, putting the loop of the leash around his left wrist. After a minute of passing the time by watching the gulls scavenge through the litter, he noticed Mia approaching. He set the indifferent expression on his face in stone. He failed to see why so many men on the force considered her obnoxious breasts to be attractive.

_Thank God it's too cold for immodest outfits_, Miles thought as she got closer. Though many men considered her beautiful, Miles found her body almost repulsive. Still, she was on his side, and that was all that really mattered in this situation.

"Who's your friend?" Mia asked once she got within earshot, indicating Pess.

"His name's Pess," Miles responded.

"Can I pet him?"

"Be my guest."

Mia reached down from her side of the table and stroked Pess's back. He looked up briefly to see who was petting him, then relaxed again.

"Shall we get down to business?" Miles asked.

"Sure," Mia replied. She put her elbows on the table and leaned toward Miles. "I didn't find anything conclusive about Lana, but one of White's people sold some information to me. On a defense attorney's pay, it wasn't cheap, either. You see, Chief Gant has a long history of forging evidence."

"Excuse me?" Miles interrupted. "The Chief is not in charge of evidence."

"When he was a detective, he would forge evidence. The tendency died down once he started working with Lana, but one of White's people found out about the forgeries. Ever since then, Gant has been working for White, paying him money, protecting his employees, and more."

_So Dzhugashvili was on to something_, Miles thought.

"Why would the Chief forge evidence?" he asked. "I know he's selfish, but that seems too risky for him. He's always careful to have all his bases covered."

"No one ever found decisive evidence. Well, okay, White found some, but my point is that no one has ever been able to prove that Gant forged evidence. He was careful not to leave a trail."

"Lana would have caught him when she was working with him."

"Which is why he stopped after they started working together. He came pretty close to being ruined by White, but somehow, he managed to get back on White's good side after SL-9."

"Let me guess: you think White got a hold of Lana at that point."

"Yes. If Lana is under White's control, then she has to allow forged evide—"

"Stop right there, Ms. Fey. Lana would never do such a thing, even if she was being blackmailed."

"What if it was to protect Ema? She did say that Ema was in danger."

"I'll believe it when she says it herself."

"I'm not saying Lana is forging evidence, but given what White is having Gant do, it is possible."

"Until you find proof that Lana is involved in the forgeries, please don't suggest it again. I don't want to hear such terrible words about her from anyone. She knows the importance of only presenting the truth, and I trust her." Miles noticed Mia's pupils had wandered upwards. "Do you have something more to say, Ms. Fey? Perhaps about how I prosecute?" She seemed to jerk back. "I do not interfere with evidence; I am simply the person who presents it. Unless you have anything else to say, this conversation is over."

"One last topic," Mia said. "Do you know anyone named Phoenix Wright?"

Miles's mood changed. It had been almost fifteen years since they last saw each other. Back then, he had wanted to be a defense attorney like his father. Nothing but a childish dream of a misguided cause. The only kind of person worse than a criminal was the kind that tried to get one off the hook. What would Wright think of Miles now?

_It doesn't matter_, he thought. _My path is right before my eyes, and I have no reason to look back or hesitate._

"You know him, don't you?" Mia asked.

"We were friends in elementary school. I forget how we became friends, though. We went our separate ways after my father died. A better question is how do you know him?"

"He's working for my law firm. He passed the bar exam a couple of days ago. I'll probably let him start defending in a few months." She smiled. "Who knows? Maybe you'll meet in court."

"If he thinks I'm the same person I was in grade school, he would probably be better off not seeing me again."

"What do you mean?"

Miles glared at her, although not as harshly as he usually did. "Ms. Fey, I appreciate what you are doing for me and Lana, but that does not give you any right to pry into a past I would rather forget."

"Sorry…"

Miles turned to Pess and stood up. Pess felt the leash moving and did the same.

"Let's go," Miles said to Pess. Then to Mia, "Thank you for the information."

Without another word, Miles and Pess walked back to the parking lot to leave. So Wright was a defense attorney. He most likely wanted to find out why Miles had changed. During the time they were friends in elementary school, Wright had a tendency to pry into other people's secrets when he thought that the secrets were hurting them. He usually ended up just making the situation worse, though. No doubt Wright would push endlessly for Miles to tell him all about his father's death and why he became a prosecutor. Someone as naïve as him would never understand; it would have been better for him if he avoided the world of law altogether.


	11. Part I, Chapter 10: Wright

**Chapter 10—Wright**

August 3, 2016

The Prosecution Lobby was relatively quiet. Some man in a purple suit—a witness—was sitting on the sofa, looking at Lana. The fact that he looked away whenever he noticed she was glaring at him told her that he probably found her attractive.

"Chief, why are you here?" a high-pitched, nasally voice asked. Lana turned her head to see the source: Winston Payne. Payne was known for his inability to push a point through. When the defendant was guilty, he usually got his verdict, but he did sometimes give in to his cowardly side and let a defense attorney's arguments slide, especially if his opponent was someone with a strong voice, such as Marvin Grossberg. Whenever that man yelled "Objection!" it literally shook the courtroom. Payne, on the other hand, had a timid voice that rarely expressed any confidence.

"I've been given permission to do as I please today," Lana replied. "I thought to see how you'd handle this case, since I'm no longer allowed to assist investigations."

"This one will be child's play," Payne said confidently. "I am the Rookie Killer, after all."

"It's over!" a breaking voice from behind the wall cried. "My life, everything, it's all over!"

"Hee hee hee…" Payne laughed. "Sounds like the defendant knows his fate."

"Death! Despair! Ohhhh! I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna die!!"

_What a pathetic man_, Lana thought.

The rest of the defendant's crying was relatively inaudible.

"Mr. Payne, it's time," a bailiff said, entering the lobby.

"I'll be watching from the gallery," Lana said.

* * *

A whack of the judge's gavel silenced the gallery.

"The court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Larry Butz," the judge said.

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," Payne said.

"The, um, defense is ready, Your Honor," the defense attorney said. Mia had said that this man was her student. He expressed the nervousness typical of a rookie.

The judge cleared his throat. "Mr. Wright?" he asked. "This is your first trial, is it not?"

"Y-Yes, Your Honor," Wright managed to say. "I'm, um, a little nervous."

"Your conduct during this trial will decide the fate of your client. Murder is a serious charge. For your client's sake, I hope you can control your nerves."

"Thank… thank you, Your Honor."

The judge seemed to think for a moment. "Mr. Wright, given the circumstances, I think we should have a test to ascertain your readiness."

_This isn't like him_, Lana thought. _Judge Clous is usually too busy making heads and tails of the case to bother with the attorneys_.

"Yes, Your Honor." Wright slumped a little. It was hard to make out from her seat in the gallery, but Lana could have sworn she saw sweat running down his cheeks.

"The test will consist of a few simple questions. Answer them clearly and concisely. Please state the name of the defendant in this case."

"The defendant? Well, that's Larry Butz, Your Honor."

"Correct," the judge said with a nod. "Just keep your wits about you and you'll do fine. Next question: This is a murder trial. Tell me, what's the victim's name?"

Wright grasped his chin after a moment, then slumped into a cold sweat again. He had apparently forgotten that one. Typical rookie.

"Phoenix!" Mia interrupted, addressing her apprentice. "Are you absolutely SURE you're up to this? You don't even know the victim's name!?"

Wright muttered something. Mia said something in response. Lana couldn't make out the conversation. After a moment, Wright took out the Court Record and looked at the case report.

"Let's hear your answer," the judge said, a tad impatient.

"Um…" Wright paused, still searching. "the victim's name is Cindy Stone."

"Correct. Now, tell me, what was the cause of death? She died because she was…?"

"She was struck once, by a blunt object."

"Correct. You've answered all my questions. I see no reason why we shouldn't proceed. You seem much more relaxed, Mr. Wright. Good for you."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Wright said before slumping again.

"Well then…" the judge turned to face Payne. "First, a question for the prosecution. Mr. Payne?"

"Yes, Your Honor?" Payne asked.

"As Mr. Wright just told us, the victim was struck with a blunt object. Would you explain to the court just what that 'object' was?"

"The murder weapon was this statue of 'The Thinker.'" Payne was holding a figurine made to look like _The Thinker_. "It was found lying on the floor, next to the victim."

"I see… the court accepts it into evidence."

Mia said something to Wright. A moment later, the judge banged his gavel.

"Mr. Payne, the prosecution may call its first witness," he said.

"The prosecution calls the defendant, Mr. Butz, to the stand."

Wright turned to Mia and said something. Mia said a few things in response. Wright began sweating as Butz was escorted to the stand. Payne cleared his throat.

"Mr. Butz," he said. "Is it not true that the victim had recently dumped you?"

"Hey, watch it, buddy!" Butz screamed. "We were great together! We were Romeo and Juliet, Cleopatra and Mark Anthony!"

_Not the best examples of good couples_, Lana thought, rubbing her ears from Butz's high-pitched scream. She noticed that Wright seemed to think the same thing.

"I wasn't dumped!" Butz continued. "She just wasn't taking my phone calls. Or seeing me… Ever. WHAT'S IT TO YOU, ANYWAY!?"

"Mr. Butz," Payne started, apparently unabashed by the defendant's screeching, "what you describe is generally what we mean by 'dumped.' In fact, she had completely abandoned you… and was seeing other men! She had just returned from overseas with one of them the day before the murder!"

"Whaddaya mean, 'one of them'!?" Butz shouted. "Lies! All of it, lies! I don't believe a word of it!"

"Your Honor, the victim's passport," Payne said, holding up a US passport. "According to this, she was in Paris until the day before she died."

The bailiff handed the passport to the judge, who examined it. He appeared to look at all of the visas before closing it and handing it to Wright.

"Hmm…" the judge muttered. "Indeed, she appears to have returned the day before the murder."

"Dude… no way…" Butz managed to say.

"The victim was a model, but did not have a large income. It appears that she had several 'Sugar Daddies.'"

Butz was almost inaudible.

_Not a lifestyle I'd choose to have_, Lana thought.

"Yes," Payne said in response to Butz's little squeak of a question. "Older men, who gave her money and gifts. She took their money and used it to support her lifestyle."

"Duuude!" Butz exclaimed, shocked.

"We can clearly see what kind of woman this Ms. Stone was. Tell me, Mr. Butz, what do you think of her now?"

Mia said something to Wright as Butz seemingly pondered the question. Wright slammed his desk with both hands just as his client opened his mouth to speak.

"My client had no idea the victim was seeing other men!" he argued. "That question is irrelevant to this case!" Wright's way of pointing at the person he was speaking to reminded Lana of Mia.

_Like mentor, like student_, she thought.

"Oof!" Payne blurted out. He winced.

"Dude!" Butz exploded. "Nick! Whaddaya mean, 'irrelevant'!? That cheatin' she-dog! I'm gonna die. I'm just gonna drop dead! Yeah, and when I meet her in the afterlife, I'm going to get to the bottom of this!"

The judge banged his gavel before the gallery could start up. "Let's continue with the trial, shall we?" he requested.

"I believe the accused's motive is clear to everyone," Payne said.

"Yes, quite."

The whole time, Wright was sweating grapeshot.

"Next question!" Payne exclaimed. "You went to the victim's apartment on the day of the murder, did you not?"

Butz swallowed, but didn't say anything. He was sweating almost as much as his lawyer.

"Well, did you, or did you not?" Payne insisted.

"Heh?" Butz responded. "Heh heh. Well, maybe I did, and maybe I didn't!"

Wright slammed his desk, then grasped his chin, then pointed at Butz. A signal, no doubt.

"Er…" Butz mumbled. "Yeah! Yeah! I was there! I went!"

"Looks like this one's an easy verdict," someone near Lana said. The judge's gavel broke up the small commotion.

"Order!" the judge demanded. "Well, Mr. Butz?"

"Dude, chill! She wasn't home, man… So, like, I didn't see her."

"Objection!" Payne screeched. "Your Honor, the defendant is lying."

"Lying?" the judge asked.

"The prosecution would like to call a witness who can prove Mr. Butz is lying."

"Well, that simplifies matters. Who is your witness?"

"The man who found the victim's body. Just before making the gruesome discovery, he saw the defendant fleeing the scene of the crime!"

"It's over now…" the same voice from the gallery said. "The Rookie Killer's killed another rookie."

The judge whacked his gavel. "Order! Order in the court! Mr. Payne, the prosecution may call its witness."

"Yes, Your Honor," Payne said. "On the day of the murder, my witness was selling newspapers at the victim's building. Please bring Mr. Frank Sahwit to the stand!"

The man in purple from earlier took the stand. He had his hands clasped together, moving with his arms. He looked like some sort of sleazy salesman who wanted to con his customers out of their money.

"Mr. Sahwit, you sell newspaper subscriptions, is this correct?" Payne asked.

"Oh, oh yes!" Sahwit answered. "Newspapers, yes!" He sounded like some rookie thief trying to create an alibi.

"Mr. Sahwit, you may proceed with your testimony," the judge said. "Please tell the court what you saw on the day of the murder."

"I was going door-to-door, selling subscriptions when I saw a man fleeing an apartment. I thought he must be in a hurry because he left the door half-open behind him. Thinking it strange, I looked inside the apartment. Then I saw her lying there… A woman… not moving… dead! I quailed in fright and found myself unable to go inside. I thought to call the police immediately! However, the phone in her apartment wasn't working. I went to a nearby park and found a public phone. I remember the time exactly: It was 1:00 PM. The man who ran was, without a doubt, the defendant sitting right over there."

The judge mumbled. Wright slumped and began sweating. His suit would probably need some washing after the trial was over.

"Incidentally," the judge started, "why wasn't the phone in the victim's apartment working?"

"Your Honor, at the time of the murder, there was a blackout in the building," Payne said.

"Aren't phones supposed to work during a blackout?"

"Yes, Your Honor. However, some cordless phones do not function normally. The phone that Mr. Sahwit used was one of those. Your Honor…" Payne opened a file folder and removed an envelope. "I have a record of the blackout, for your perusal."

"Now, Mr. Wright…"

"Yes!" Wright barked. "Er… yes, Your Honor?"

"You may begin your cross-examination."

"C-Cross examination, Your Honor?"

_Idiot_, Lana thought. _A defense attorney who doesn't even know how to cross-examine? Mia must be slipping…_

Mia said something to Wright. Wright said something back. Mia replied.

"Lies!" Lana heard Wright say. "What?!" The rest was inaudible. Wright jumped a bit after hearing something from Mia. Wright asked something. Mia responded with a bit of a briefing.

Wright looked at the testimony's transcript. He grasped his chin with one hand. He then looked at the Court Record. He dug out the autopsy report and looked at it.

"Objection!" he shouted, pointing at Sahwit. "You found the body at 1:00 PM. You're sure?"

"Yes," Sahwit said. "It was 1:00 PM, for certain."

Wright slammed his desk. "Frankly, I find that hard to believe. Your statement directly contradicts the autopsy report." Wright held the report in his left hand, occasionally flicking it with his right. "The autopsy notes the time of death at sometime after 4 PM. There was nobody to… er…" He put the report away. "no 'body' to find at 1:00 PM! How do you explain this three-hour gap?"

Wright had a confident smile on his face, his hands on his hips. Sahwit started moving a little faster. He appeared to be sweating. "Oh, that!" he managed to say. "Oh, er…"

"Objection!" Payne interrupted. "This is trivial! The witness merely forgot the time!"

The judge shook his head. "After his testimony, I find that hard to believe. Mr. Sahwit, why were you so certain that you found the body at 1:00 PM?"

"I… er… well, I…" he stuttered. He had some sort of secret. "Gee, that's a really good question!"

Mia said something to Wright.

"Wait!" Sahwit said. "I remember now!"

"Would you care to give your testimony again?" the judge asked.

"You see, when I found the body, I heard the time. There was a voice saying the time… It was probably coming from the television. Oh, but it was three hours off, wasn't it? I guess the victim must have been watching a video of a taped program! That's why I thought it was 1:00 PM! Terribly sorry about the misunderstanding…"

"Hmm… I see. You heard a voice saying the time on a taped program. Mr. Wright, you may cross-examine the witness."

Mia said something to Wright. Wright said something in response. He was then handed the transcript. He needed almost no time to find a weak point.

"Objection!" he yelled, again pointing at the witness. "Hold it right there! The prosecution has said there was a blackout at the time of the discovery!" He took out the report and flicked it a few times. "And this record proves it!"

Sahwit got nervous again. Wright pointed accusingly at the witness.

"You couldn't have heard a television… or a video!"

"Gah!!" Sahwit yelped, his toupee jumping. "I… well… urk!"

"The defense has a point," the judge said, nodding. "Do you have an explanation for this, Mr. Sahwit?"

"No, I… I find it quite puzzling myself! Quite!" He paused. "Aah! W-wait! I remember now!"

"Mr. Sahwit? The court would prefer to hear an accurate testimony from the very beginning. These constant corrections are harming your credibility. That, and you seem rather… distraught."

Sahwit's toupee jumped again. "M-my apologies, Your Honor! It… er, it must have been the shock of finding the body!"

"Very well, Mr. Sahwit. Let's hear your testimony once more please."

"Actually, I didn't 'hear' the time… I 'saw' it! There was a table clock in the apartment, wasn't there! Yeah, the murder weapon! The killer used it to hit the victim! That must have been what I saw."

"You saw a clock? I guess that would explain it. The defense may cross-examine the witness."

"Gladly," Wright said. He was handed the testimony. "Objection!" he yelled again, pointing at Sahwit. "Wait just a moment!" He slammed his desk. "The murder weapon wasn't a clock. It was this statue! Now how is this supposed to be a clock?"

"Whaa!?" Sahwit yelped. His toupee jumped. He began shaking his fist at Wright. "Y-you with your 'objections,' and your 'evidence'… Just who do you think you are!?"

"Just answer the question, Mr. Sahwit."

"Hey, I… I saw it there, okay! That's a clock!"

"Your Honor!" Payne cut in. He was sweating. "If I may…"

"Yes, Mr. Payne?" the judge asked.

"As the witness stated, this statue is indeed a clock. The neck is a switch. You just tilt it, and it says the time out loud. As it doesn't look like a clock, I submitted it as a statue. My apologies."

"I see. So the murder weapon was a table clock after all. Well, Mr. Wright? It appears that the witness's testimony was correct. This is a clock. Do you have any problems with his testimony now?"

"Your Honor," Wright started, "there is a gaping hole in the witness's testimony! The only way he could have known the weapon was a clock is to hold it in his hand." He held the testimony and flicked it a few times. "Yet the witness testified that he never entered the apartment!" He slammed his desk. "Clearly, a contradiction!"

"Hmm… indeed!"

"The witness knew it was a clock, because he…" He paused, pointing at Sahwit. "You're lying! You were inside the apartment on the day of the murder!"

"Oh yeah?" Sahwit insisted. "Prove it! Prove I went in there!"

Wright slammed his desk again. "I'll do better than that! I can prove you were the one who killed her! You struck her with the clock, and the shock of the blow triggered the clock's voice! That was the sound you heard!"

"Yeah, he has to be the killer!" someone in the gallery yelled. The judge's gavel stopped him from continuing.

"Order in the court!" Judge Clous demanded. "Intriguing. Please continue, Mr. Wright."

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said. "Mr. Sahwit. The sound must have left quite an impression on you. Understandable, since the murder weapon spoke just as you hit the victim! That voice was burned into your mind. That's why you were so certain about the time!"

"Objection!" Payne shrieked. "W-w-what's the meaning of this? This is all baseless conjecture!"

"Baseless…?" Wright countered. "Just look at the witness's face!"

Sahwit mumbled something.

"Would the witness care to elaborate?" the judge asked. "Did you strike the victim with the clock?"

_Looks like we have our killer_, Lana thought. _I had a feeling Butz was innocent. Why would he kill someone he loved?_

"That… that day… I… I never!" Sahwit was losing it. "Look… I… the clock… I heard, no! I mean, I saw… Saw… nggg!" He grabbed his toupee and screamed as he hurled it at Wright's face. It slid off. Wright was not amused. "Shutupshutupshutup! I hate you! I-it was him, I tell you! I saw him! H-he killed her and he should burn! Burn! Give him death!"

"Give it a rest, slimeball!" someone in the gallery jeered. The judge silenced the gallery.

"Order!" he shouted. "Order in the court I say!"

"Your Honor, a-a moment please!" Payne squeaked. "There isn't a shred of evidence supporting the defense's claims!"

"Mr. Wright!"

"Your Honor?" Wright asked.

"You claim the sound the witness heard came from the clock… Do you have any evidence?"

"Yes, Your Honor. The sound Mr. Sahwit heard was definitely this clock. A fact which is clear if you simply…" he paused. "Let's sound the clock now, here in this court. Your Honor, may I have the clock? I ask the court to listen very carefully…"

"I think it's 8:25," the clock said after Wright tilted its neck.

"That certainly is a strange way to announce the time," the judge said.

"Well, he is 'The Thinker,' after all."

"So, we've heard the clock. What are your conclusions, Mr. Wright?"

"Mr. Payne… can you tell me what time it is now?"

Payne checked his watch. "It's 11:25… Ack!"

"As you can see, this clock is exactly three hours slow! Precisely the discrepancy between what Mr. Sahwit heard and the actual time of death! So, Mr. Sahwit… Try to talk your way out of this one!"

Sahwit's heavy breathing stopped for a moment. "…Hah!" he laughed. "Hah hah! You forgot one thing!"

Wright started sweating.

"While it may seem like that clock IS running three hours slow… It proves nothing! How do you know it was running three hours slow on the day of the murder! If you can't prove that, you don't have a case!"

Wright slumped over, sweating.

_Come on, Wright_! Lana thought. _That's child's play!_

"Mr. Wright?" the judge called. "It seems you lack the critical evidence to support your claim."

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said, defeated.

"This means I cannot let you indict the witness. Unfortunately…" he banged his gavel. "This ends the cross-examination of Mr. Frank Sahwit."

"I come all the way down here to testify, and look what happens!" Sahwit shouted. "They treat me like a criminal! A criminal! You lawyers are all slime!"

Wright slammed his desk. He didn't say anything, though.

"Not so fast, Mr. Sahwit!" Mia yelled.

"Mia!" Wright yelped. "I mean, Chief!"

"Listen up, Wright!" she said. The rest was inaudible. They talked for a bit.

"Wait!" Wright chirped. "Maybe I can prove it!"

"Well, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "You say the clock was running slow on the day of the murder… Have you found evidence to support this claim?"

"Of course. There is a piece of evidence in the Court Record that can prove my claim beyond a doubt!"

"Hah!" Sahwit barked. "Tough words! Let's see you pull this one off!"

"Let's see this evidence that proves why the clock was running slow!" the judge ordered.

"Take that!" Wright shouted, tossing the passport to the judge. "The victim had just returned home from abroad the day before the murder. As we all know, the time difference between here and Paris is nine hours!"

_I doubt the judge knew that_, Lana thought.

"When it's 4:00 PM here," Wright continued, "it's 1:00 AM the next day there." He pointed at the judge. "The clock wasn't three hours slow, it was nine hours fast! The victim hadn't reset her clock since returning home! That's why the time you heard when you struck her dead in her apartment was wrong!" Wright slammed his desk. "Proof enough for you, Mr. Sahwit? Or should I say… Mr. Did It!"

"Ngh!" Sahwit yelped. He foamed at the mouth and fainted. The whole gallery started up before being silenced by the gavel.

"O-order!" the judge bellowed. "Order, I say!" He waited for the gallery to quiet down. "Well… This case has certainly turned out differently than we all expected. Mr. Payne… your client?"

"He… er… he was arrested and has been taken away, Your Honor," Payne squeaked.

"Very well," the judge said with a nod. "Mr. Wright?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright replied.

"I have to say, I'm impressed. I don't think I've ever seen someone complete a defense so quickly… and find the true culprit at the same time!"

"Thank you, Your Honor."

"At this point, this is only a formality, but... This court finds the defendant, Mr. Larry Butz, not guilty."

The gallery cheered. The judge silenced them with his gavel.

"And with that, the court is adjourned."

* * *

Back in the Prosecution Lobby, Payne was banging his head against the wall. Lana almost pitied him. He had been so sure of the case, yet it turned out that the defendant was innocent. Still, he had had no way of knowing beforehand.

"Just as defense attorneys have to believe that the defendant is innocent, prosecutors have to believe that the defendant is guilty."

Miles's words echoed in her head as she watched the "Rookie Killer" rant about his defeat. It was true, to some extent. There was no way to know for certain that the defendant was innocent or guilty. That was why the trial system existed: to find the truth.

_I hope when Miles tastes his first defeat, he won't react like this guy_, she thought.


	12. Part I, Chapter 11: The Beginning

**Chapter 11—The Beginning**

September 7, 2016

Judge Clous's gavel silenced the gallery.

"The court is now in session for the trial of Ms. Maya Fey," the judge said.

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," Miles said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," the defense attorney said. Miles had read the report. That attorney was Phoenix Wright. Wright had been Mia Fey's apprentice. It was ironic that he would be defending his mentor's killer. The look on Wright's face told Miles that he recognized him. It was hard not to; next to von Karma, Miles was the best prosecutor in the country.

Apparently, he remembered all those years ago. Somehow, they had become friends, along with Larry Butz. Miles's memory was that he liked Wright much more. Butz was someone who made Detective Gumshoe look like the next Stephen Hawking. That was back when Miles had wanted to be a defense attorney, back when his father was alive.

_Wright…_ he thought. _Why did you have to show your face to me again? I want to forget about my past._

He was probably the reason, though. He used to idolize his father, but now, he was a prosecutor who made Ivan the Terrible seem merciful. Knowing Wright's naïve curiosity, he probably wanted to learn why Miles had changed his path.

_You had best forget about me, Wright. I've chosen my path, and I have no desire to turn back. Hopefully, this trial will convince you to move on._

"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge called. "Please give the court your opening statement."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Miles said. "The defendant, Ms. Maya Fey, was at the scene of the crime. The prosecution has evidence she committed this murder and we have a witness who saw her do it. The prosecution sees no reason to doubt the facts of this case, Your Honor."

"I see," the judge said, nodding. "Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth. Let's begin, then. You may call your first witness."

"The prosecution calls the chief officer at the scene, Detective Gumshoe!"

Gumshoe took the stand.

"Witness, please state your name and profession to the court," Miles requested.

"Sir!" Gumshoe said enthusiastically. "My name's Dick Gumshoe, sir! I'm the detective in charge of homicides down at the precinct, sir!" Typical Gumshoe. He always liked to be there when the fruits of his investigation were used to inflict the final blow. With Miles prosecuting, Gumshoe no doubt felt as though he was watching the Padres win the World Series.

"Detective Gumshoe," Miles said to the detective. "Please, describe for us the details of this murder."

"Very well, sir! Let me use this floor map of the office to explain." Gumshoe took a map of the crime scene out of his coat. He pointed to where Fey's body had been found. "The body was found by this window, here."

"And the cause of death?"

"Loss of blood due to being struck by a blunt object, sir! The murder weapon was a statue of 'The Thinker' found next to the body, sir! It was heavy enough to be a deadly weapon, even in a girl's hands, sir!"

"The court accepts the statue as evidence," the judge said.

Miles put his right hand on his desk. "Now, Detective…" he started.

"Y-yes sir!" Gumshoe replied.

"You immediately arrested Ms. Maya Fey, who was found at the scene, correct? Can you tell me why?"

"Yes sir! I had hard evidence she did it, sir!"

"Hmm," the judge mumbled. "Detective Gumshoe, please testify to the court about this 'hard evidence.'"

"As soon as the phone call came in, I rushed to the scene! There were two people there already: the defendant, Ms. Maya Fey, and the lawyer, Mr. Phoenix Wright. I immediately arrested Ms. Maya Fey! Why? We had a witness account describing her! The witness saw Ms. Maya Fey at the very moment of the murder!"

"Hmm… The very moment, you say. Very well. Mr. Wright, you may begin your cross-examination."

"Y-yes, Your Honor," Wright managed to say. He seemed a tad nervous. He grasped his chin with his left hand, trying to think. The defendant tossed a crumpled-up piece of paper at her lawyer.

_Stupid girl_, Miles thought. _She obviously doesn't realize how serious this is_.

Wright opened up the paper and seemed to be reading something written on it. A small smile crossed Wright's face.

"Something the matter?" the judge asked Wright.

"No, Your Honor," he replied. "I'd like to begin my cross-examination."

Wright appeared to think for a moment.

"Hold on just one second!" Wright almost shouted.

"Y-yeah?" Gumshoe asked.

"If I heard correctly, you said you arrested her because you had 'hard evidence' she did it, correct?" Wright was pointing his left index finger at Gumshoe.

"Huh? Did… did I say that? Me?"

"I heard you say it," Wright said.

"You did say it," the judge said.

"You said it," Miles reminded Gumshoe.

Wright slammed on his desk with both hands, then pointed at Gumshoe again. He was definitely Mia's apprentice.

"Exactly what about this suspicious woman in pink's claim was 'hard evidence'!?"

"Wh-what!?" Gumshoe barked. "Miss May isn't suspicious, and she sure isn't pink, pal!" He then realized what he said and rubbed the back of his head with his right hand. "W-well, I guess she is pink…"

"That's enough, Detective Gumshoe," the judge said, shaking his head. "Do you have any more solid proof other than her claims, Detective?"

"Umm…"

Wright grasped his chin, obviously thinking he had made some progress.

"Yes," Gumshoe said to the judge. Wright seemed to hunch over a little, sweat running down his face. "Sorry, I got the order of things mixed up in my testimony, Your Honor sir! There was something I should have told you about first, Your Honor!"

_Well, this certainly isn't the first time Gumshoe's forgotten something important_, Miles thought. It was no wonder his salary was so low.

"Very well, Detective," the judge said. "Let's hear your testimony again."

"After securing the suspect, I examined the scene of the crime with my own eyes," Gumshoe said. "I found a memo written on a piece of paper next to the victim's body! On it, the word 'Maya' was written clearly in blood! Lab test results showed that the blood was the victim's! Also, there was blood found on the victim's finger! Before she died, the victim wrote the killer's name!"

The gallery started chatting with one another. The judge silenced them with his gavel.

"How you like that?" Gumshoe confidently asked Wright. "That's my 'hard evidence'!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Before we begin cross-examination, I have a question for you, Detective."

"Y-Your Honor?"

"Why didn't you testify about this vital piece of evidence the first time!?"

Gumshoe rubbed the back of his head and seemed to slump a little. "Ah… eh… I know. I'm real embarrassed I forgot about it, Your Honor Sir."

"Try to be more careful!" The judge calmed down. "Very well, the defense may begin its cross-examination."

Wright looked over the testimony. He smiled a bit.

"Objection!" he yelled, pointing his left index finger at Gumshoe. "Detective Gumshoe! There's one thing I want you to clarify for me here. You say that the victim, Mia Fey, wrote this note." He held up the testimony transcript and flicked it occasionally with his right hand. "That she was accusing the defendant, Maya Fey? That's really what you're saying?"

"Wh-what?" Gumshoe asked. "This isn't one of those lawyer tricks, now, is it? Of course she wrote it! Who else could have!?"

Wright shook his head, then placed his hands on his hips, smiling. "You have it backwards, Detective."

"B-backwards?"

"The victim is the only person who absolutely could NOT have written it!" Wright commented, flicking a piece of paper he took out of an envelope. "This is a report from your department, Detective. 'Immediate death due to a blow from a blunt object.'" Wright slammed his desk and then pointed at Gumshoe. "She died immediately!" he shouted.

"But…!"

"No 'but'-ing your way out of this one, Detective!"

The gallery started up again, quickly silenced by a whack of the judge's gavel.

"Order! Order!" he yelled. "The defense has a point. Someone who died immediately wouldn't have the time to write anything down."

"Objection!" Miles shouted. Unlike his rookie opponent, he was quite calm. This was not an issue. "Mr. Wright. I beg your pardon, but when exactly did you obtain that autopsy report?"

"Wh-when…!?" Wright held his chin, trying to remember. "It was the day after the murder…"

"The prosecution's point being…?" the judge asked.

Miles put his right hand up to his face and tapped his forehead with his index finger. An "I have you now" smile appeared on his face. According to Lana, Ema called it his "evil smile." "That autopsy report is outdated, Your Honor," he said.

"Wh-what?" Wright managed to say.

Miles took out the updated autopsy report he had had prepared the previous day. "A second autopsy was performed yesterday, at my request! Death was almost immediate due to a blow from a blunt object, but there is a possibility the victim lived for several minutes after the blow." Miles spread his hands out, amused by Wright's ignorance. "I received these results this morning."

"N-no way!" Wright yelped. His mouth opened briefly, then he slumped into a cold sweat.

Miles pointed at the defense. "Your Honor! It's quite easy to imagine that the victim did have time to write 'Maya'!" He took a bow. "That is all."

"I see!" the judge said in surprise. Wright's face gave off a hint of anger. He started sweating again. It was easy to tell what he was thinking. He no doubt had a negative view of Miles due to his reputation.

Miles spread his hands out and shook his head. "Why, Mr. Wright, you look shocked!" he taunted. "Something you want to say?"

"Mr. Edgeworth…" Wright started, "I've heard there's nothing you won't do to get your verdict…" He slammed his desk and pointed at Miles. "What reason could you possibly have had to request a second autopsy report?"

"Mr. Wright!" the judge interrupted. "The defense will refrain from personal attacks on the prosecution!"

Miles tapped his forehead. "No matter, Your Honor," he said. "Mr. Wright." He took out the updated report. "Say what you will, the evidence in this report is undeniable. Your Honor, I submit this report to the court."

"U-understood," the judge said. "The court accepts the evidence."

"Well, Your Honor?" Miles asked. "The evidence strongly suggests the victim was identifying the killer."

"I suppose that's the obvious conclusion, yes."

Miles took a bow. There was no way Wright could debunk such a report. After all, Lana herself had personally delivered it to him. If it was fake, she would have gotten rid of it and removed whoever was responsible.

"The prosecution would like to call its next witness," Miles said. "This poor, innocent girl saw the murder with her own eyes!" _Technically, she's far from innocent_, Miles thought, _but she is at the least innocent of murder_.

"Let the witness Miss April May take the stand," the judge said. Wright started sweating. He had apparently met Miss May and reacted in the same way Miles had after having to question her.

"Witness, your name, please," Miles said. He mentally braced himself for some stupid gesture meant to look endearing.

"April May!" the girl said. "At your service!" She winked while placing her hands on the area of her breasts that her skimpy jacket left exposed. The men in the gallery started up, obviously infatuated. The judge silenced them.

_I almost pity Wright_, Miles thought.

May was actually only a year younger than Miles, but she did not behave in a way that suited anyone who sought to be called a woman instead of a girl. Miles couldn't stand people like her; they gave women a bad name.

"Order!" the judge demanded. "An introduction should not require any reaction from the crowd! The witness will refrain from wonton winking!"

"Aww…" May put her hands to her eyes, feigning sadness. "Yes, Your Honor." Wright was sweating. Witnesses like Miss May had a tendency to make life miserable for the defense.

"Tell us, where were you on the night of September 5, when the murder occurred?" Miles asked, bringing attention back to the case at hand.

"Um… gee… I was, like, in my hotel room? Tee hee. I checked in right after lunch."

"And this hotel is directly across from the Fey and Co. Law Offices?"

"Mmm… that's right, big boy."

"Please testify to the court about what you saw," the judge requested.

"It was, like, 9:00 at night. I looked out the window, y'know! And then, oooh! O saw a woman with long hair being attacked! The one attacking her was the mousey girl sitting in the defendant's chair! Then the woman, like, dodged to one side and ran away! But that girl, she caught up to her and… and… She hit her! Then the woman with the long hair… She kinda… slumped. The end. That's all I saw. Every little bitsy witsy!" She winked.

_When you're done testifying, Miss May, go back to high school and learn some modesty and proper English_, Miles thought.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled.

"Well, Your Honor?" Miles asked.

"I see. It is a remarkably solid testimony. I don't see a need to trouble the witness any…"

"W-wait, Your Honor!" Wright interrupted.

"Yes, Mr. Wright?"

"What about my cross-examination!?" Just like his mentor, he was insistent on turning over every rock. Of course, Wright had been that way even before he got involved in law.

"I thought the witness's testimony just now was quite… firm. Didn't you?"

"Mr. Wright…" Miles started, "I understand you were Ms. Mia Fey's understudy, were you not? You must know her techniques well." He crossed his arms. "Her cowardly way of finding tiny faults in perfectly good testimonies…"

"H-hey! How dare you!"

"Well, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Will you cross-examine the witness?"

"I'll gladly proceed with the cross-examination."

"Very well, you may begin your cross-examination!"

Wright was handed the testimony, which he looked over.

"Hold it!" he shouted after reading it. "How did you know it was my client!?"

"Huh?" May chirped. "Well, I… gee! First of all, she had a girl's physique! And, and secondly, she was… she was small! Who else could it be but her!"

Wright grasped his chin. Miles knew what was coming next.

"Hold on a minute!" Wright lashed out, pointing accusingly at May. "That testimony stinks!"

"W-what?"

"Miss May, I'm willing to bet that…" He paused, then slammed his desk. "Did you really see the defendant at all!?"

"Urp!" May twitched a little. The gallery started up.

"Mr. Wright!" the judge almost shouted. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Yes, what is the meaning!" May asked, her hands near her eyes to feign crying. "Somebody tell me because I'm clueless! About this, I mean!"

"Okay…" Wright said. "If you had really witnessed my client, Maya Fey…" He pointed at May. "You would have noticed her clothes before noticing her physique!"

May twitched.

"No one wears clothes like this on a daily basis!" Wright continued. "Except her! And I'm no expert on fashion, but her hairdo looks far from normal to me! However, the witness's testimony mentions neither of these things!" He slammed his desk. "The testimony is bogus!"

"But… but!" May stuttered.

"Still, we don't know if she was dressed that way the night of the murder…" the judge said.

"She was, Your Honor!" Wright insisted. "I saw her. And so did Detective Gumshoe!" He slammed his desk. "What do you say to that, Miss May?"

"Rowr!" May hissed, trying to sound fierce while still appearing endearing. "What are you trying to say, you mean lawyer! I-I saw what I saw. I… just didn't think all the trifling little details were necessary, darling."

"Miss May," the judge said. "The court would like to remind you to please omit nothing in your testimony."

"I'm sorry, Your Honor," she said flirtatiously. "I'll be a good girl. I promise. She winked at the judge."

"Your testimony again, if you would."

"I did see everything! I did!" May cried after the court was silent. "The victim—the woman—dodged the first attack and ran off to the right. Then the girl in the hippie clothes ran after her… And she hit her with that weapon! I saw it! I did! That… that clock! Um… that kinda statue-y clock? 'The Thinker,' I think? Well? Does the accuracy of my report not startle you? Tee hee!"

"I… see," the judge replied. "I only wish you had been so detailed from the beginning. Please begin the cross-examination."

Wright looked at the testimony. He then looked at May. "So, you saw me then, too?" he asked.

"Of course!" May said. "I'd remember that spiky hair anywhere!"

Wright hunched over, sweating.

"The witness will refrain from personal attacks on the defense attorney," the judge insisted.

May touched her chest. "Aww, was I a bad girl? I'm sowwy."

"Very well… continue."

Wright looked at the testimony again.

"Objection!" he yelled, pointing at May. "Miss May. What you said just now was quite… revealing."

_Must he use that word?_ Miles thought, already disgusted enough by the witness.

"Revealing?" May asked. "Oooh, you'd like that, wouldn't you. "Naughty Mr. Lawyer…"

"You just said that this statue of 'The Thinker' was a clock," Wright said, pointing at the murder weapon. "But there's no way of knowing that just by looking at it!"

"Urp!" May twitched.

"Another person in the same position as you recently called this a "clock," too…" Wright placed his hands on his hips, smiling. "And he was found guilty… of murder!"

The gallery started murmuring, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Order! Order!" the judge demanded.

"Miss May," Wright demanded, pointing at her. "Can you explain how you know this was a clock?"

"Oooh… urp!"

"Objection!" Miles cut in. "The witness saw the murder with her own eyes! That's all that's important here!" He pounded the palm of his right hand against his desk. "The defense is trying to confuse the issue with trivial concerns!"

"Yes…" the judge said, still thinking. "yes, of course. You will withdraw your question, Mr. Wright."

"Objection!" Wright yelled in response, slamming his desk. "But questions are all I have, Your Honor! And as you may recall, I've caught murderers with these questions before!"

The judge was silent, trying to think. He then banged his gavel. "Objection sustained. You may continue to question the witness."

"Huh? What?" May asked, confused. "So… what happens now?"

"What happens now is you answer my question!" Wright nearly shouted, pointing at the witness. "How did you know it was a clock?"

"What…! Th-that's… Because… I heard it? Yes! I heard it say the time!"

_That struggle makes it obvious she's lying_, Miles thought. _No matter. How she knew it was a clock is trivial. She has an alibi, after all._

Wright slammed his desk. "So, you've been to the law offices of Fey and Co.!"

"N-n-no! Hey, I didn't say that! Why would I go there! I heard from my hotel room. Hee hee!"

"The law offices of "Fey and Co.," Miles started, "where the murder took place, are very close to the hotel. She could have easily heard the clock!"

"Hmm," the judge mumbled. "Well, Mr. Wright? Are you satisfied?"

Wright shook his head. "No, Your Honor! I'm not satisfied because… Your Honor, members of the court…" Wright slammed his desk. "It is inconceivable that the clock in question rang! That clock is missing its clockwork!"

The gallery started up. Three whacks of the judge's gavel turned the volume down. "H-how could you possibly…?" the judge stuttered.

"Just have a look… As soon as you can!" The bailiff took the clock to the judge, who examined it.

"Oh!" the judge exclaimed.

"See anything interesting, Your Honor?"

"It is as the defense says! This clock is missing its clockwork! It's quite empty!"

The voices in the gallery were promptly silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Mr. Wright! Would you care to explain to the court the meaning of this?"

"It is as you can see," Wright said, confident. "The 'clock' was empty. It couldn't have rung! Therefore, this witness… is a big, fat liar!"

_Apparently, Mia never taught this novice that I always plan ahead_, Miles thought. Wright was walking toward a dead end.

"F-fat!?" May screeched

"Well, Miss May?" Wright insisted, pointing at her.

Miles tapped his forehead and smiled.

"Tsk tsk," he chuckled. "Quite a show you've put on for us, Mr. Wright. I'm afraid you've forgotten one thing, however. Indeed, the clock is empty. As you say… it can't ring. However, we must ask: when was the clockwork removed? If it was after the witness heard the clock, then there is no contradiction!"

"Hmm!" the judge hummed in agreement. "That's true. That is a possibility. The clock might have been emptied after she heard it."

"And that is exactly what happened, Your Honor!"

"Well, Mr. Wright? Can you prove when the clockwork was removed?"

Miles spread out his arms and shook his head. "Ho hoh! Impossible, of course…"

"I have proof…" Wright said.

"W-what!?"

"Wasn't it you who told me 'proof is everything'? Well, I was listening." He pointed at Miles. "And now I'll show you the 'proof' you like so much! The evidence that proves when the clockwork was removed is…" Wright reached into his coat pocket. He then pulled out a cell phone.

"Take that!" he yelled. "Take a look at this!"

"Hmm," the judge muttered. "That's a very cute cell phone."

"Ooh hoo!" May laughed. "You have a girlie phone!" Wright put his hand behind his head and blushed a little. Typical Wright. He did have a tendency to embarrass himself when he didn't think things through.

"W-wait!" he stuttered. "Wait! This isn't my phone!" He held the phone out again. "Listen! This is the defendant's cell phone, and it contains a recording…" Wright slammed his desk. "A recording of a conversation she had with the victim on the day of the murder!"

"Order! Order!" the judge ordered after silencing the gallery.

Miles hunched over, gritting his teeth, his eyes pointing up to avoid looking at anyone.

"The defendant's cell phone!?" he mumbled. "Th-this wasn't brought to my attention!"

"Perhaps Detective Gumshoe overlooked it?" Wright suggested, smiling confidently.

"The good detective had better remember he's up for evaluation soon…" Miles grumbled. It was no wonder the idiot had such a low salary.

"Let's hear the conversation," Wright said. He pressed a button on the phone and fast-forwarded through the unrelated parts of the conversation.

"_So you just want me to hold on to 'The Thinker' for you, then?"_ the defendant's voice asked.

"_If you could,"_ Mia's voice replied. _"Ah… I should probably tell you, the clock isn't talking right now."_

"_Huh? It's not working? That's lame!"_

"_I had to take the clockwork out, sorry."_

Wright fast-forwarded to the end.

_September 5, 9:27 AM_, a recorded voice said. The phone then beeped, indicating the recording was over.

"Your Honor," Wright started, "I think this recording makes it clear that the clockwork was already gone…" He slammed his desk. "and this was recorded in the morning, before the witness even arrived at her hotel!"

May twitched a bit, uttering something incomprehensible.

"Well, Miss May? Would you care to explain this to the court? Just how do you know that weapon was a clock!?"

"W-well…!" She paused to think. "Well, isn't it o-obvious? I saw that clock before! Um… what store was that again? I-I go to so many! Oops! I forgot!" She winked.

"So the witness had seen it before," the judge said. "That would make sense. Does the defense have any objections, Mr. Wright?"

"The witness claims she had 'seen it before,'" Wright said. "But this directly contradicts a piece of evidence already submitted to the court!"

"Well then, let's see it. Please produce this evidence that will prove the witness had not seen the clock before."

"It's simple. This clock was never in any store, ever!"

"W-whaaat!?" May screamed.

"A friend of mine made that clock. Only two exist in the world. And the one that isn't here is in police custody!"

"I-impossible! Everything is sold in stores!"

"Miss May, I think it's high time you went shopping for a better excuse…?"

"Mmpf…"

"Oh?" Wright taunted, grasping his chin. "Excuses not on sale today?"

May started uttering some nonsense words and screaming. Her face contorted into a glare. "What's it to you, porcupine-head!?" she exploded. "That stupid clock doesn't matter, okay!? She did it! And she should die for it! Die!"

The gallery was in an uproar. Miles could hear a few of the men commenting on how even the cutest rose could have thorns—not that Miles considered May cute to begin with, and she certainly didn't look cute after her little breakdown started. Three whacks of the judge's gavel managed to quiet everyone down, although an occasional murmur was still audible.

"W-w-whoa!" the judge exclaimed. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. T-this is a court of law, and the witness will remain calm!"

May breathed heavily a few times. The breathing sounded more like the growl of some mythical monster. She began returning to her "innocent" self.

"Oh!" she managed to say. "Oh? Oh hoh ho!" Despite her voice, Miss May's laughter had a sort of maniacal feel to it. "S-silly me!" She grunted. "Did I, um, like… lose it? I guess I did. Tee hee!" She winked, trying to win the crowd over again.

Miles looked to Wright. The cold sweat running down his face was a dead giveaway that May's outburst had scared him.

_Get used to it, Wright_, Miles thought. _People will almost always lose it when you put them on the spot like that._

"Miss May, let me ask," the judge requested. "Tell me, how did you know the weapon was a clock?"

May didn't respond. The judge shook his head.

"Hmm… oh dear. Does the defense have an opinion on this… behavior?"

A determined look was set in stone on Wright's face. "Yes, Your Honor," he said. "Allow me to explain how I see the truth of the matter. Miss April May, you knew the weapon was a clock because…" He paused, then pointed accusingly at the witness. "Miss May held that very clock in her hands!"

"Mr. Wright!" the judge interrupted. "When was this!?"

Wright slammed his desk. "When she used it to strike the victim! When else?"

The gallery's murmurs rose to the volume of a rock concert until the judge starting banging his gavel.

"Order!" he bellowed. "Order!" He looked to Wright, a serious look engraved into his face. "Mr. Wright! What is the meaning of this!"

"April May, you killed Mia Fey, I say!" Wright shouted. "And when you struck, the force of the impact made 'The Thinker' ring!"

_Gotcha…_ Miles thought. _He's still just a rookie, after all…_

"That's when you heard it!"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted, loud enough to be heard over Wright's accusation and the gallery's conversations. "Tsk tsk," he laughed. "You truly are a work of art, Mr. Phoenix Wright."

"W-what's that supposed to mean!?"

"It was you who just proved that 'The Thinker' was empty!"

"Oh…" Wright muttered, his confident gaze replaced by a cold sweat. He was probably cursing himself for his stupidity.

"What's more," Miles continued, "the witness has a rock-solid alibi." He turned to May. "Miss May? Perhaps you could explain to the poor, misguided Mr. Wright? You were in the hotel at the time of the murder."

Wright had a smile on his face. He clearly believed Miles was bluffing.

"It would be MY pleasure!" May said, the glee at getting to torment Wright obvious in her tone. Wright slammed his desk.

"N-no way!" he barked.

"Yes way, Mr. Lawyer. Tee hee? Didn't the murder take place at 9:00 at night? Gee, that's the exact time I ordered room service from the hotel bellboy!"

"Incidentally," Miles added, "the bellboy corroborates the witness's story." He pounded on his desk with his right hand. "Ergo, she was not at the crime scene! Rock solid!"

The gallery, now on Miles's side again, started up. The judge returned attention to the case with his gavel.

"Mr. Wright!" he shouted. "You've just made a serious accusation to a perfectly innocent woman!"

"S-sorry, Your Honor," Wright squeaked, hunched over and sweating more than the winner of the Boston Marathon. After a moment, he placed his left hand on his chin. His eyes suddenly gleamed with an idea. "Your Honor, I figured it out! There is one other way Miss April May could have known it was a clock!" He slammed his desk. "One way alone! And I have proof!"

"Well…" the judge started, "proof, you say? Then, the court will examine your proof, Mr. Wright. How did the witness know 'The Thinker' was a clock?"

"Take that!" Wright shouted, taking out the defendant's cell phone again. "The defendant's cell phone."

"Yes, we've seen that already," the judge said.

"Take another listen to the conversation between the defendant and the victim." He went to the recording.

"_Mia! What's up?"_ the defendant's voice asked. _"You haven't called in a while."_

"_Well, actually there's something I want you to hold on to for me."_

"_Again? What is it this time?"_

"_It's… a clock. It's made to look like that statue, 'The Thinker.' And it tells you the time!"_

Wright ended the recording.

"They do mention 'The Thinker,'" the judge said. "But how would the witness know of this conversation? Do you have proof that she knew of the conversation?"

"Take that!" Wright shouted again. That was getting very old very fast. He took out a black box with two wires sticking out. "Take a look at this."

"Ah!" May screamed. "Oooh! Th-that!? Eh heh…"

"I found this in Miss May's room."

The gallery began to switch sides again.

_Is that a wiretap?_ Miles thought. _Better yet, how did Wright get into the witness's room? Her location was supposed to be classified!_

"Mr. Wright!" the judge called after silencing the gallery. "Please explain to the court what this is!"

"Miss April May!" Wright said accusingly. "You used a wiretap to listen to this conversation! That's how you knew 'The Thinker' was a clock!" He slammed his desk. "Am I wrong!?"

"I… I…" she stuttered.

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "Your Honor, this is ridiculous!"

"Your Honor, look at the witness's face!" Wright countered. "Does she seem amused to you!? The defense demands an answer."

May was glaring at Wright, grunting.

"Witness, answer the question," the judge ordered. "Did you tap her phone?"

May didn't respond.

"Miss May!"

"Shut up, all of you!" she exploded. "What gives you the right to talk to ME like that!? You… you LAWYER!" She put her hands near her eyes, looking as though she actually was going to cry. "I-it's no fair! All of you g-ganging up on me like that… Oh, so I'm the bad girl, is that it? Is that it!? Uh… uh… uwaaaaaaah!"

_I didn't know she was capable of real tears_, Miles thought.

"Miss May, confess," Wright demanded. "You did it, didn't you?"

"Are you out of your mind!?" May countered, her left eye twitching. "Oh, wait, I forgot… you're a lawyer! You must be!"

_And she's back to her old self_.

"At the time of the murder…" she continued, "I was in my hotel room, getting room service! How could I have killed her? If you don't believe me, just ask the bellboy!"

"Well, does the defense have anything to say?"

"Um, well…" Wright started, then trailed off. "Right. On with the cross-examination."

_He must think Miss May really is the killer_, Miles thought. He spread his hands out and shook his head in amusement at his opponent's ineptitude. "What exactly do you have left to examine, Mr. Wright? Miss April May has admitted to the wiretap, yes. But that bears no relevance to the case at hand: murder! There's no way you can prove any connection!"

Wright hunched over, sweating.

_I hope he can get that suit cleaned in a day_, Miles thought. _Otherwise, this courtroom will smell like a locker room tomorrow._

"Then I believe the cross-examination is over," the judge said. "Mr. Edgeworth, does the prosecution have any other witnesses to call?"

"None, Your Honor," Miles replied, taking a bow. "She's the last."

Wright jerked in shock. He slammed on his desk. He was giving off the same aura that Mia gave off whenever she was cornered.

"W-wait!" He begged. "Your Honor!"

"Yes, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"The defense would like to call the bellboy after all!"

"Tsk tsk tsk…" Miles chuckled. He had Wright exactly where he wanted him. "As I thought! May I remind you, dear Mr. Wright. Should you question the bellboy, and Miss April May's alibi prove to be solid, then, by default, your client Ms. Maya Fey will be pronounced 'guilty'!" He hit his desk with his right hand, his arrogant smile replaced by a serious glare. "Are you prepared to accept my condition?" After a moment, Wright nodded. He had nowhere else to go, after all.

"I accept!" he said. The judge banged his gavel.

"Very well!" he said. "The court calls the hotel bellboy to the stand!"

The court waited for a few minutes for the bellboy to arrive. After he took the stand, proceedings resumed. This would be child's play. Miles had seen to it that there were no problems with the bellboy's side of the story. Yes, there was one problem, another witness, but the investigation team said that his testimony matched that of Miss May. Calling him to the stand would be a waste of the court's time. Thus, he had requested beforehand—just in case Wright managed to claw his way to calling the bellboy to the stand—that the second witness not be mentioned unless the bellboy was specifically asked.

"I believe we're ready for the witness to testify," Miles said after the bellboy took the stand. "He certainly does look like a bellboy."

"Yes, sir," the bellboy replied. "I received your summons in the middle of work, sir. I'm happy to be of service."

"That tea set looks rather heavy," the judge started, "so without further ado, the witness may begin his testimony."

"Very good, sir!" The bellboy waited until he was sure all attention was on him. "I am the head bellboy at the fine Gatewater Hotel, in business for four generations! I believe I received a call after 8:00 in the evening from our guest, Miss May. She asked for an ice coffee to be brought to her at 9:00, on the dot, sir. I brought it to her at precisely the requested time, of course. And I delivered the ice coffee to our guest Miss May, herself."

"I see," the judge said after the bellboy had stopped talking. "The defense may begin its cross-examination."

"R-right!" Wright stammered. "I'm ready."

_I have you in my sights, Wright_, Miles thought, _and the bellboy's testimony is the bullet that will claim your case's life._

Wright looked over the testimony. He put it away, then took it out again, looking over it in what appeared to be much finer detail. He began sweating, then sighed nervously.

"What exactly is it you do at the hotel?" he asked.

_This is irrelevant_, Miles thought. However, he felt no need to object. Wright had caused him a little pain, so he was just going to sit back and enjoy watching the novice pest squirm as he slowly realized that his client was doomed.

"Why, anything required of me, sir," the bellboy said. "I check in guests, I check out guests. I clean rooms, I make beds. I even deliver room service, sir. I checked Miss May in personally."

"Are you always so… so prim?"

"Mr. Wright," the judge interrupted. "You will refrain from asking frivolous questions…"

Wright looked at the testimony again. "Hold it!" he half-yelled, half-cried. "Are you sure it was Miss May on the phone?"

"Absolutely, sir," the bellboy replied.

"H-how can you be so certain!?"

"I checked Miss May in personally, sir. Not only did I see her in all her stunning radiance, but I also heard her voice. And then I saw THEM, and I…" He trailed off, a tad embarrassed at his digression. He cleared his throat a couple of times. "The point being, I remembered her quite well, sir."

_I can see why Lana had such a negative opinion of this man when she investigated a robbery at that hotel,_ Miles thought.

"Yes, what then?" the judge asked.

"She asked for an ice coffee to be brought to her at 9:00, on the dot, sir," the bellboy responded, repeating his testimony."

"Hold it!" Wright demanded. "9:00 'on the dot,' you say?"

"Yes," the bellboy said. "I confirmed that detail several times. She was watching a program on the TV, and wished to drink after she finished, sir."

Wright was holding his chin.

_It's only a coincidence, Wright_, Miles thought, knowing what his opponent was undoubtedly thinking.

"I brought it to her at precisely the requested time, of course," the bellboy continued.

"Hold it!" Wright ordered again. "'Precisely' 9:00, then?"

"Precisely, exactly, and most definitely, sir. 9:00 PM."

"How can you be so sure!?" Wright begged, starting to sweat again.

"Miss May was quite insistent that it be brought then. 'Oh, bellboy? Tee hee! I'd like, like, ice coffee at exactly 9:00!' Something like that, sir. Therefore, I knocked on her door at the crack of 9:00, sir."

Wright was holding his no-doubt sweaty chin again.

_If you had listened to what he said earlier, you wouldn't be wondering why Miss May wanted the coffee right at nine_, Miles thought. Rookies were rookies, after all. He had no idea why Payne had lost to this fool.

"And I delivered the ice coffee to our guest Miss May, herself," the bellboy continued.

"You are sure it was Miss April May herself?" Wright demanded.

_She's rather hard to mistake, Wright._

"Ab-SO-lutely, sir."

"'Ab-SO-lutely'…?" Wright echoed in confusion.

"Yes, sir. As in, 'so very absolutely,' sir. It's an endearing mannerism of mine."

_Much like Gumshoe's fondness of the word "pal."_

How come you're so very certain!?" Wright pushed, pointing at the witness. His wastefulness was getting quite amusing. No veteran would waste so much time on such trivial details. Not that it mattered; veterans and rookies alike fell to Miles.

"Well, when I brought the room service, sir…" the bellboy started, blushing heavily, "S-she… the guest, sir, favored me w-with a, um, an 'embarraser,' sir."

"'Embarraser'!? Is that French for 'embrace'?"

"It's French for 'kiss,' sir. But not a French kiss, sir! More of a peck on the cheek."

"Wh-why would she have done that…?" Wright asked. He was no longer just badgering the witness; he really was starting to see that his case was hopeless.

"I believe, perhaps, she was momentarily swayed by my prim demeanor, sir. It was a moment I shall never, ever forget, sir."

Wright was hunched over in a cold sweat yet again. His face was starting to shine from the light reflecting off of the layer of sweat he had built up.

"It's no good!" he finally cried.

"Tsk tsk," Miles laughed. It was finally over. "Finally, you understand. This bellboy has absolutely no reason to lie! Now… If you have any decency, you will end this rather tedious cross-examination here!"

"Hmm," the judge muttered in agreement, nodding. "It was a bit tedious. The witness may leave the stand."

Wright slammed his desk, desperate.

"W-wait!" he begged. "Please wait!"

"Yes? Does the defense have something to add?"

"One last question… let me ask one last question!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. Now Wright was just being annoying. "Your Honor, I must object. This charade of justice has gone on long enough!"

"Now now, Mr. Edgeworth," the judge said. "Alright Mr. Wright. I'll give you one more question, that's all."

Wright had not moved from his position, both hands still on his desk. "T-tell me again about er… room service!" he managed to say.

"A-again, sir?" the bellboy asked. There was a slight hint of annoyance in his tone at Wright's stubborn persistence. "At exactly 9:00, I delivered room service to Miss May in room 303. The guest had requested ice coffee… 18 was the charge, I recall."

"I see…" Wright paused. He was apparently surprised by the price.

_If the place's coffee is as exquisite as their tea, then the price needs no explanation_, Miles thought.

"E-eighteen dollars?" Wright stuttered. "Doesn't that seem a bit expensive?"

"Y-yes, well, ice coffee for two, you know," the bellboy replied. "And we don't skimp on the ice, sir."

_You idiot!_ Miles yelled mentally, gritting his teeth without opening his mouth.

Wright slammed his desk and then pointed at the bellboy. He had picked up on that slip of the tongue. "What did you say!?" he bellowed.

"Ah!" the bellboy exclaimed. "Oh… er… rather, quite!"

"Bellboy! Tell us the truth now… Was someone else staying in Miss May's room?"

"Objection!" Miles barked, hitting his desk. "I object! That was… objectionable!"

_Think of a better excuse! You sound like more of a novice than Wright!_

"Objection overruled," the judge said, shaking his head at Miles's momentary weakness. "The witness will answer the question."

"Er… yes, I see," the bellboy stuttered. Wright pounded on his desk and then pointed accusingly at the witness.

"Why did you not mention this in your testimony!?" he demanded.

"W-well, sir, you er… you didn't ask!" Wright banged on his desk again.

"That's the sort of thing you're normally supposed to mention!"

"Ah, yes, quite. Indeed… It was the, er, good barrister there, Mr. Edgeworth, who… He asked me not to mention it if I wasn't specifically asked, sir."

"Oof!" Miles burst. He collapsed onto his desk, breaking his fall with his arms. "Y-you fool!"

_I'll be penalized for sure… The Bar Association will almost certainly think this was a deal… Wright… you've ruined me! Four years of perfection... gone!_

"Miss April May checked into a twin room…" Wright started, "with a man. Correct?"

"Yes, sir," the bellboy replied.

"Then, when you brought them room service, you didn't see that man in the room…?"

"That's right, sir."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled in thought. Wright slammed his desk.

"Your Honor!" he shouted. "We have just learned of another person involved who may have been the murderer! In this new light, I hold that it's impossible to judge the defendant. You agree, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Who!?" Miles demanded of Wright. "Who is this 'other person'!?" It was a long shot, but maybe Wright would slip up and spare Miles the penalty on his perfect record.

"Simple, it was…" Wright paused and hit his desk as though he intended to break it in half. "The man who checked in with Miss May!"

"Oof!" Miles blurted out. _I figured he'd get that one right…_

"Your Honor!" Wright called. "As has been previously revealed, Miss April May was tapping the victim's phone. Yet Miss May herself has an alibi at the time of the murder." He banged on his desk. "However, that does not clear the man that was with her! The bellboy saw no one else in the room at the time of the murder!!"

"M-my, what a convenient little setup…" Miles said through gritted teeth. "but it's too late…"

"'Too late'?" Wright asked in response. "I suppose you'd like it if it was too late, wouldn't you…" He pounded on his desk and then pointed at Miles.

_Here it comes…_

"After all, it was you who hid the presence of the other man from this court!"

"Oof!" Miles hunched over, his right arm stopping him from hitting the desk. "Upstart… amateur…!" he managed to say. "T-these accusations are… ludicrous!"

The judge banged his gavel.

"Enough!" he barked. "The court acknowledges the defense's argument. I expect the prosecution and defense to look into this matter fully! Am I understood?"

"Yes…" Miles gasped for air. He had bent his windpipe through his position, and his rage did nothing to help. "Yes, Your Honor."

"That is all today for the trial of Maya Fey. Court is adjourned!" The judge banged his gavel one last time.

* * *

Miles bypassed the Prosecution Lobby completely and returned to his office. He practically crushed the doorknob in his hand as he opened the door and went to his desk. He pounded on it with his right fist. His arm twitched a few times. The phone rang. Miles gritted his teeth and picked up the nuisance.

"This is Edgeworth," Miles said into the receiver. He had somehow managed to avoid showing any anger in his voice.

"Mr. Edgeworth, I talked to the Bar Association for you," the voice on the other end said. Miles recognized it instantly: Lana.

_Lana…_ He closed his eyes, suddenly calm.

"What did they say?" he asked. His voice sounded much calmer than when he picked up the phone. Apparently, he hadn't completely removed the rage from his voice when he answered.

"You got lucky. Since you concealed the other witness simply because his testimony was not necessary, they decided to let it slide."

"Lana… thank you so much," Miles said, gratefulness pouring out of his voice.

Lana's voice paused.

"You're welcome, Mr. Edgeworth," she finally said. "That's all I called about, so good-bye."

Lana hung up. Miles noticed Gumshoe peering in through the door.

"Do you… still love her, sir?" he asked, blushing a little because he had been caught.

"Of course I do," Miles replied. "But let's not talk about that right now. YOU owe me an explanation."

Gumshoe gulped and approached Miles's desk.

"Detective, why did you not mention the defendant's cell phone?" Miles asked, glaring at Gumshoe so intensely that the detective shivered a bit.

"I, um, I…"

"Answer the question, Detective. That cell phone bored a gaping hole in our case." He reached out and grabbed Gumshoe by his tie and pulled him close to his face. The rage had returned to his voice. "Why was I not told about it!?"

"I d-didn't know about the r-r-recording, sir! We didn't kn-know the cell phone had that f-f-function!"

"You DIDN'T KNOW!? What do we pay you to do, Detective!? It's your JOB to investigate the evidence!" Miles paused and let out a breath, loosening his grip on the detective's tie. "How much are you paid, Detective?" he asked, somewhat calm again.

"Uh…" Gumshoe paused. "I… forgot, sir."

"It doesn't matter; it's getting cut no matter how much you earn."

Gumshoe whimpered. As Miles recalled, the imbecile's salary was already quite low.

"Also," Miles continued, "have you any idea how Mr. Wright was able to enter Miss May's hotel room?"

"I told him not to talk to the witness," Gumshoe replied, looking down.

"You didn't answer my question, Detective. Did Wright drop the subject?"

"Well, he tried to get me to tell him about her. I… kinda let her name slip, but that's all sir! He thought she had been sent home."

"Did you correct him?"

"Of course, sir! I told him—"

Gumshoe was cut off by a slap in the face.

"YOU IDIOT!" Miles exploded, standing up. "THIS is why your salary keeps getting cut! How am I supposed to do my job if you fall for the defense's tricks!?"

"I-I'm sorry, sir!" Gumshoe managed to say, stepping back from Miles's desk. A few drops of blood fell from his nose onto the floor.

"Wright's going to come at me with his entire arsenal tomorrow! I want decisive evidence of who killed Ms. Fey!"

"Y-yes sir!" Gumshoe stammered.

"Now get going! And don't ever do something so stupid again!"

"Y-y-y-y-yes sir!" Gumshoe saluted and left the office.

Miles opened his desk drawer and took a tissue out of the tissue box stored there. With a sigh of anger at Gumshoe's incompetence and relief at being alone, he walked to the spot on the floor where Gumshoe had bled and wiped it off until only a luminol test would be able to see the blood.

_That imbecile… If it hadn't been for his stupidity, Maya Fey would have been proven guilty by now. Now I'll have to work with the very man I'm trying to defeat…_

He shuddered. Redd White. That was the man staying with May. Still, he had an alibi, so even though he was a criminal, he was innocent as far as this case went. Wright would suffer in court tomorrow—it was a fact.


	13. Part I, Chapter 12: Torture

**Chapter 12—Torture**

September 7, 2016

Lana had heard about the trial. White was almost certainly going to be a witness tomorrow—whether he liked it or not. Too many of the people involved knew about his involvement, and Wright would probably learn from one of them, the bellboy, Miss May, or even Maya. Every one of them had some connection to him, which meant one of them would probably spill the beans.

The Bar Association had contacted Lana shortly after the trial—they intended to penalize Miles for keeping White a secret from the court. Worried about him, she explained the situation to them and took the blame for the incident. Miles had no idea that White was going to be an important witness, not to mention it was she and Gant who had told him that White's testimony was unnecessary, so they agreed to consider it a miscommunication rather than a deal.

Afterwards, she called Miles and told him what she had done. She knew Miles. He took great pride in his perfect record. As a whole, Miles was a very proud man. He didn't seek revenge for insults, but he did take them much harder than most. Most people thought of him as conceited, but that was far from the truth. He cared about others, even if he didn't always show it; the porcelain cat statuette she kept on her desk was proof of his other side—he had given it to her about a week after their first date. He didn't show much fondness of people who gave him trouble, but he still respected those who deserved respect, and as such, expected others to respect him. Even then, he was kind to anyone who took the time to befriend him, such as Gumshoe. However, when there was a problem with an investigation, an outsider might think that Miles hated the lovable idiot.

Someone knocked on the door to Lana's office. The "shave and a haircut" rhythm told her it was Gant. He was probably terrified since White was in danger. After all, ever since White found out about his forgeries, Gant had been doing everything the tyrant demanded of him.

"Come in," Lana said. A very nervous Chief Gant entered, closing the door behind him.

"What happened!?" he cried, his face covered in sweat. "I thought Worthy had the case covered!"

"Wright managed to get his hands on some evidence that Detective Gumshoe missed," Lana replied.

"WHAT!?"

"Wright acquired a cell phone with a recording on it and came across a wiretap in Miss May's room."

"How the hell did he find her!? May's location was supposed to be classified!!"

"I'm guessing a slip of Gumshoe's tongue."

Gant growled, his teeth grinding against each other. "Get that oaf in here right now!"

Lana picked up the phone and dialed the Department.

"Criminal Affairs," Chief Detective Wynn answered.

"Gumshoe's needed at the Prosecutor's Office," Lana said.

"That's where he is, ma'am. He said he was worried about Mr. Edgeworth."

"I see. Thank you." Lana then dialed the PA extension. "Detective Gumshoe to the Chief Prosecutor's Office."

A moment later, a knock was heard on the door.

"Come in," Lana said. Gumshoe peeked in and entered, sweating. The area around his left nostril looked bloody.

"Y-you called, ma'am?" Gumshoe asked.

"Yes, I did. Do you know how Mr. Wright managed to acquire the defendant's cell phone?"

Gumshoe gulped. He knew. "No, ma'am," he lied.

"If you think you can avoid a salary cut by lying, think again. How did he get the cell phone?"

"I d-didn't notice the recording, so I gave it to him. He said that Ms. Fey was worried that the collectible strap might—"

"A purple Steel Samurai strap?"

"How did you know?"

"It was confiscated at the Detention Center and shown to me. My sister has that same type of strap on her cell phone. Even someone with your salary could easily afford it."

Gumshoe hung his head. He had been duped again.

"How could you be so stupid, Detective!?" Gant demanded.

"I know…" Gumshoe whimpered. "Mr. Edgeworth was really huffy about it, too, and when I told him that I was tricked into telling Mr. Wright the witness's—OOF!!"

Gumshoe was cut off by a gloved backhand to his right cheek.

"YOU TOLD MR. WRIGHT WHERE THE WITNESS WAS!?" Gant exploded.

"I-i-it was an a-accident, sir!"

"I oughta fire you on the spot!"

"I'm sorry, sir! I really am! I didn't know!"

"Chief," Lana interrupted, her cold armor filtering out the concern in her voice. Gant, red with fear and anger, turned his head to face Lana. "Mr. Edgeworth has not lost yet. There will be no problems with the commissioners unless the killer is acquitted, which is unlikely with Mr. Edgeworth leading the prosecution."

Translation: White will let you live as long as someone other than himself is proven guilty. With Miles prosecuting, it's unlikely that Maya will be acquitted.

There was no decisive evidence that White was the killer, but it was very likely. And since White had a stranglehold on Gant, forged evidence would be needed from Lana, meaning Ema's well-being depended on an innocent person taking the fall for killing Mia.

Lana had met the defendant once when she was in law school. Maya was visiting Mia for a few days. She was only eleven at the time, and almost as cute as Ema. Lana's memory was that Maya was a very mischievous girl who sometimes let her tongue get ahead of her brain. Still, Maya loved her sister as much as Ema loved Lana. It was inconceivable that Maya was guilty.

However, Gant had demanded that Maya be made to look like the killer. What a way to repay Mia for her friendship—getting her innocent sister proven guilty of a crime she did not commit—all for the sake of Ema.

The telephone rang. Lana picked it up.

"Public Prosecutor's Office," she said into the receiver.

"I'm contacting you on behalf of our CEO," a voice on the other end said. "I'll put Mr. White on the line."

_White…_ Lana thought._ Just who I wanted to talk to._

The receiver crackled a bit.

"White?" Lana called. "That you? What are you doing calling me at a time like this!?"

"Hello," White's voice said. "Chief Prosecutor? I've changed my mind. I want to testify tomorrow."

"What's this about?"

"The Mia Fey case. I witnessed the murder, you see. And, thus, as a very important witness, I would like to testify."

"What? Why now? I thought you said you didn't want to go to court?"

"Quietude…!" White barked. "I told you I changed my mind, didn't I? Oh, and one other thing. Send the police over here right away. The man is standing right in front of me. He looks dazed but could be violent!"

"What? What man?" _What is this creep raving about?_

"Are you even listening? The executioner! The hatchet-man! The liquidator… The killer, man!"

"Chief Prosecutor Jacobson was dismissed a year and a half ago."

A voice on the other end was screaming something (it sounded like "What!?"), so White probably didn't hear her.

"Mr. White…" Lana started, "this isn't another one of those…"

"Chief Prosecutor," White said again. "I do not believe you are in a position to freely offer your opinions to me, correct? I'm telling you to send the police, now!"

White hung up before Lana could respond.

_How could anyone mistake my voice for Mr. Jacobson's!?_

"What did he say?" Gant asked.

"He says that the real killer is in his office," Lana replied. She turned to Gumshoe. "Detective, get to Redd White's office on the double. Mia Fey's killer is there. Arrest him."

"If you can get us out of this mess," Gant started, "we'll reconsider firing you."

"Right away, sir!" Gumshoe exclaimed. He dashed out, not wanting to waste a single second.

_Mia… forgive me…_

At least if someone else was arrested, Maya would not be convicted. Even so, it was likely that White just wanted to dispose of a troublemaker and decided to get him convicted of murder.

"That… was lucky…" Gant sighed once Gumshoe was gone.

"I told you things would be fine," Lana said. "And Mr. Edgeworth even gets to keep his perfect record. I imagine he'll be happy to hear that."

"He kept it?"

"I contacted the Bar Association and put in a few good words for him. They decided to let it slide since White's testimony was supposedly the same as May's."

"Did you do that because you thought little Worthy hadn't done anything wrong or because you still love him?" Gant asked, trying to divert his mood to something he could make light of.

"Both," Lana replied coldly.

Gant guffawed loudly enough to shake the light fixture in the ceiling, clapping the whole time.

"If you still love him, why don't you just marry him?" he asked.

"That's none of your business, Chief."

"I don't care what you do with your life, Ms. Skye, just as long as you don't get me in trouble. Go ahead! Marry him, for all I care!" He paused.

_Here it comes…_

"Oh, I get it," he teased. "You're worried you might let your little secret slip, aren't you?"

"You have to die eventually," Lana said, maintaining her serious composure. If he was going to try to torment her, then she would do the same.

"Hah! The doc says I'll probably live to be ninety at the least!"

"Not if you're murdered or you get some lethal disease."

"Oh, you think someone'll kill me?"

"I know at least one person who wants you dead."

"And you think you could get away with killing me? Worthy would never marry you then! And what about your precious little sister? She'd be crushed to see you put on death row!"

"Maybe I'll just hire Shelly de Killer," Lana said. She would never really hire an assassin; she'd have to live with that torment her whole life. "I hear he's got a perfect record."

"You're bluffing."

"Maybe I am, but you have no way of knowing that for sure. Perhaps that suit of armor in your office will come to life and quarter you, or maybe you'll be followed home and shot. De Killer's pretty creative, Chief. Can you imagine all the possible ways for him to kill you? Why, you'd need a—"

"That's enough," Gant interrupted. "There's no way you'd do that. I know you, Lana; you may act cold, but you're not. You couldn't bring yourself to kill me."

"You've changed me, Gant. What may have been impossible for me once is now almost routine. However, let's not dwell on this topic. I'm sure you've got plenty of other things to do than argue with me about the person I know better than any other."

Gant looked to the door. He looked normal, but Lana could tell that she had gotten to him. After all, what would a selfish man like Gant be more paranoid about than his own well-being? She was starting to understand why some people drew pleasure out of torturing others. After all the torment Gant put her through, the thought of him fearing for his life pleased her.

_All this for you, Ema_, she thought as Gant left the office. _How many innocent people will I have to kill before we're free? At least ten people have been put on death row because of me. You'd probably never forgive me if you learned what I was doing, even if it was for you._

Lana's thoughts paused. _Am I really forging evidence to protect Ema anymore? The real reason… I'm worried. As long as Ema knows nothing, I'll be happy. As long as Miles has no idea that innocent people have died because of me, I'll be able to marry him once I'm free. It's all for myself… I'm becoming just as selfish as Gant…_

She placed her elbows on her desk and her chin in her hands.

_Will I even be able to live with myself when this is all over? Even if Ema loves me and I marry Miles, will I get over it? I've done so many horrible things. Even if I was blackmailed, I might have only done them for myself. Miles and Ema would never forgive me if they learned the truth. I really am just doing this for myself…_

Lana felt tears forming in her eyes. She felt as though she had just learned she was responsible for her parents' deaths.

_Gant… You've turned me into a monster. I told myself I'd never become like you…_

_No… _Her hands tensed up. She formed her hands into fists and rested her chin on her knuckles. _It's not just for me… Even if they'd be living a lie, Miles and Ema will be happy once this is over. I can return to normal and be the loving sister I want to be… I can marry Miles… I can only imagine how much joy I'll draw from seeing Ema's adorable smile again… and Miles…_

_That's what sets me apart from you, Gant,_ she thought, feeling much stronger now. _My motives may be selfish, but the pleasure I draw from the end will be from the happiness of others at my freedom, not my own relief at being free. I'll never truly be like you, Gant. When I'm free, I'll be the same lady I always was—kind, caring, and pleased by the happiness of others. You only care for your own happiness, but I'm not like that. I feel for others… that is what gives me the strength to fight you._


	14. Part I, Chapter 13: Turnabout

**Chapter 13—Turnabout**

September 9, 2016

Chief Gant had called Miles from the Public Prosecutor's Office. The charges against Maya Fey were being dropped—the real killer was Wright. In addition, the other witness intended to testify. Why Miss May had lied about the killer's identity was a mystery, but it changed nothing. As a prosecutor, it was Miles's job to prove the defendant guilty.

His witness for the day was sitting in one of the armchairs in the Prosecution Lobby. Redd White: the man who was blackmailing Lana. To win the case, Miles had to work with him. This was going to be hell, using a criminal to convict another criminal.

"Let it go, Mr. Edgeworth," Lana said. "Even if you don't trust this witness, he is innocent as far as this case goes."

"You there!" White said. "The beautacious lady who just spoke! I assure you, the work I do is abso-posi-lutely honest!"

"The only work you will do today is testify," Miles said. "Anything else is irrelevant to the case."

"I'll be watching from the gallery," Lana said, taking her leave. Not wanting to have to spend more time with White than was necessary, Miles got up and left, too. He figured it was only fitting to pay the defendant a visit.

"Well… I guess this is it!" Miles heard the previous defendant say to Wright as he approached the Defendant Lobby. What was she doing here?

"Yeah," Wright replied. "One way or another, this case gets decided today."

"Aaa!" Maya screamed, noticing Miles entering. "Ph-Phoenix! Look!"

Wright had a look of surprise on his face.

"I received a call from the public prosecutor's office yesterday," Miles said. "He told me that whatever Mr. White says today, it will be the 'absolute truth.'" _Even if everything he says outside of court is an absolute lie_, he added mentally. "No matter how you try to attack his testimony, if I raise an objection, I have it on good faith that the judge will listen to me."

"So…" Wright started, "you're saying I'm going to be guilty. End of story?"

Miles didn't respond for a moment. "I will do anything to get my verdict, Mr. Wright. Anything."

"Why…" Maya asked, now quite angry. "Why!? How can you torment an innocent person like this!?"

_Innocent? The department had good reason to suspect Wright._

"'Innocent'…?" Miles repeated. "How can we know that? The guilty will always lie, to avoid being found out. There's no way to tell who is guilty and who is innocent! All that I can hope to do is get every defendant declared 'guilty'! So I make that my policy."

"Edgeworth…" Wright said. "You've changed."

_Change is necessary, Wright. I couldn't lie to myself after my father died._

"Hmm?" Maya chirped. "Phoenix! You know him!?"

"Don't expect any special treatment, Phoenix Wright," Miles said. He then left for the courtroom. _Justice cares nothing about friendship. I will prove that to you in court today._

* * *

The judge silenced the gallery at precisely 10:00.

"The court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Phoenix Wright," he said.

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," Miles said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said. Maya was also behind the defense's desk for some reason.

_So you're defending yourself? That won't save you, and neither will a "spirit medium."_

"Mr. Wright…" the judge said. "Are you sure you're up to doing this?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said with a nod. "I will be defending myself."

"Understood. Very well. Mr. Edgeworth, your opening statement, please."

"As the details of the event are already quite clear to the court," Miles started, "today we will hear the testimony of another witness to the defendant's crime."

"I see. The prosecution may call its witness."

Wright grasped his chin, thinking. He probably thought White had a hold on the judge, too. He then slammed his desk.

"Mr. Edgeworth, you owe an explanation to the court!" Wright demanded. "Why didn't this witness testify in the trial against Maya Fey!?"

"Hmph," Miles laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "I'm ever so sorry! Mr. White is a busy man, and besides, at the time, I thought that Ms. May's opinion was all that would be needed. Again, my sincerest apologies to the court."

"Excellent, Mr. Edgeworth," the judge commented. "I appreciate your demeanor."

Miles took a bow. Wright started sweating.

"I would like to call Mr. Redd White to the stand!" Miles said, straightening up.

White took the stand.

"Please state your full name," Miles said.

"You wish to know the title of my personage?" White asked, his voice booming almost as loudly as Grossberg's. He showed off the many rings on his fingers, grinning.

_Is it any wonder prosecutors have a reputation for bitterness when they have to deal with these characters?_

"Er… your name?" Miles insisted.

"Yes!" White replied. "That is what I said! Oh dear, do my locutions confuse?"

_No, but your personality would confuse even Freud._

"Name!" Miles shouted, hitting his desk with his right hand.

"My name is Redd White," he replied. "But my friends call me Blanco Nino."

_Niño Blanco que no habla Español…_

"I am the CEO," White continued, "or to use a more common term, the President, of Bluecorp."

"Did you know the victim, Ms. Mia Fey?" Miles asked.

"That would be a negatory! No, I did not."

_Apparently, not everything he says is the "absolute truth,"_ Miles thought.

"You were at the Gatewater Hotel the night of the murder?"

"Correct."

"And you witnessed the murder from there?"

"Ahem. Why tell you what you already know?"

_Because you're in a court with a slow judge._

"Very well, Mr. White," the judge said. "You may begin your testimony."

Wright started sweating as White laughed. White showed off his jewelry again.

"I hope you have made your peace with God, Mr. Lawyer!" White taunted.

Maya said something to Wright. Probably some form of encouragement. The gallery was silent.

"Let's see, it was about 9:00, I believe," White said, beginning his testimony. "I was quietly perusifying… er, that's 'reading' to you, some papers by the window. Then I heard a bedlam coming from outside! Surprised, I turned to look at the building across the way. It was then I saw him: a spiky-haired man attacking a woman with long hair! Needless to say that man was none other than you, Mr. Lawyer! I called Miss May over at once. She, too, was flabbergasted of course. The victim, she… she ran away, but you gave chase! Finally there was a terrible impaction! Then it was all over…"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "If things occurred as you testify, then I'm afraid the defendant is guilty. Very well, defendant… er, I mean, Mr. Wright. Your corss-examination…"

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said. He looked over the testimony. "How do you know what time it was?" he asked White.

"Because I am always abso-posi-lutely perfect, you know?" White replied.

"No no no, you're not getting away with that!"

"You are so mistrusting, Mr. Lawyer! So… what was the proper term for 'secretary' again…? Anyway, Miss May ordered room service for 9:00. It happened soon after the room service arrived."

"True, the bellboy who brought the coffee saw Miss May." Wright banged on his desk. "But he testified that he did not see you at the time!"

"Ahem. This is your concern? Silly Lawyer! Miss May received the coffee outside the room! Of course he could not see me. He would need X-ray vision to pull off something like that!"

"Tell us, what were you doing at that time?" Miles asked.

"I was quietly perusifying… er, that's 'reading' to you, some papers by the window."

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "By window, you mean the one directly across from the Fey & Co. Law Office?"

"Correct! That is the only window, you see."

"And there you were reading… papers?"

"Correct! The Gatewater is a businessman's hotel, and I am a busy man who had business to do! Then I heard a bedlam coming from outside! Surprised, I turned to look at the building across the way. It was then I saw him: a spiky-haired man attacking a woman with long hair! Needless to say that man was none other than you, Mr. Lawyer! I called Miss May over at once. She, too, was flabbergasted of course. The victim, she… she ran away, but you gave chase!"

"Hold it!" Wright repeated. "Can you be a little more detailed about that? I think it's worth knowing exactly what happened."

"Of course!" White replied. "Comprende! I understand!"

_Pero usted no comprende Español, Señor Blanco._

"The victim was attacked," White continued, "by you, and ran to the left. You gave chase, and struck her down!"

"Are you sure?" Miles asked. That contradicted May's testimony.

White allowed his jewelry to sparkle again. "As you know, I am always abso-posi-lutely perfect!"

_An abso-posi-lutely perfect pain in the neck…_

"Perhaps you could change your testimony to reflect this new detail," the judge said. Miles knew what was coming.

"The victim ran to the left, and you gave chase!" White said to Wright, repeating himself.

"Objection!" Wright yelled, pointing at White. "Wait right there! Mr. White, you've dug your own grave!"

"What is this!?" White asked, confused.

"You said the victim ran to the 'left.' But that directly contradicts Miss May's testimony! She clearly stated that the victim ran 'right'!"

"Oh hoh hoh," White guffawed. "It is simple. You have misheard her."

"I think not. Look at the floor plans…" Wright took out the diagram of the crime scene and pointed to the killer's location. "The killer was here." He then pointed to where Mia had been found. "And the victim, here. If the victim ran to the left, as you claim she did, she would have been running directly away from the door! She would have been running into a dead end! Don't you find that odd?"

White placed his fists on the stand. He then crossed his arms, thinking. "Very strange…" he uttered. "I did see her run to the left… I did."

Maya said something to Wright.

"True…" Miles heard Wright say in response.

"Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"Yes, Your Honor?"

"Miss May says 'right,' and Mr. White says 'left.' Can you explain this contradiction to the court?"

"Both witnesses are telling the truth."

Miles shrugged and shook his head.

"Hah!" he scoffed. "I doubt it! Er, rather, that does not clear up the contradiction!"

"There is one scenario that would explain their conflicting accounts," Wright said.

"What!?" Miles demanded. Wright slammed on his desk, then pointed at White.

"Obviously, the witness was not viewing the crime from the hotel!"

The gallery began murmuring. The judge quieted them down.

"Mr. Wright!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean?"

"Yes, what do you mean, he was not 'viewing the crime from the hotel'!?" Miles demanded. He pounded on his desk. "If he was not in the hotel, where could he have been!?"

"In the law offices of Fey & Co., of course!" Wright responded.

The gallery, now quite noisy again, grew silent with three whacks of the judge's gavel.

"More specifically, he was standing here!" Wright pointed to the killer's location. "This is where he was!" he yelled, slamming his desk. "Look! When the victim ran for the door, if he was watching from this point, to him it would appear that she ran to the 'left.'"

Miles hit his desk. "Please!" he barked. "This is no time for jokes in ill taste! That is where the killer was standing!"

The judge silenced the gallery. "Order!" he shouted. "I will have order! Anyone disturbing the order of this courtroom will be held in contempt! Mr. Wright! What are you suggesting!?"

"R-r-rapscallion!!" White stuttered at Wright.

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "The postulations of the defense are a distortion of the truth, Your Honor!"

"Indeed," the judge said. "They do seem a bit far-fetched…"

White laughed. "You provide us with so much entertainment, Mr. Lawyer!" he said. "The hilarity of the moment made me remember something… It appears I have been unclear, and for this, I apologize. Mr. Your Honor… Might I be allowed to testify once more?"

"Very well, let's hear your revised testimony," the judge said with a nod.

"Miss May's testimony was correct… as was mine! When you assaulted the girl, she first ran to the left. And then you hit her, savagely! That is what I saw. Next, with the last of her strength, she ran to the right. You chased her, and delivered the final blow. That is what Miss May saw. You see? You hit her twice! Don't you remember, Mr. Lawyer?"

"Hmm… that does seem to make sense," the judge said. "Will you be cross-examining the witness's testimony?"

"You bet I will!" Wright almost shouted. "I mean, yes, Your Honor."

Wright was handed the testimony to look over. Almost instantly, he took the autopsy report out of a folder. Miles knew where this was going.

"Mr. White!" Wright called. The victim died from a 'single' blow!"

White looked shocked. Understandable, considering that he could not have possibly seen the whole murder.

"What do you have to say to that?"

"Er… Erp!" White yelped.

Wright banged on his desk. "Mr. White. Wasn't it you who told this court you were 'abso-posi-lutely perfect'?"

"Mmph. I will refrain from using this phrase from now on."

"Your Honor, if you could ask the witness for a new testimony…"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "The witness is obviously confused, Your Honor! I would like to request a ten minute break!" Perhaps they could figure out what exactly happened during that break.

"Yes… yes, quite," the judge uttered.

"Objection!" Wright yelled. "The witness is confused because he's lying! I emphatically request that there be no break, Your Honor!"

The gallery was jeering—partially at Miles, partially at the judge. The judge banged his gavel.

"Very well," he said. "If the witness would care to revise his testimony… Mr. White?"

"O… okay…" White managed to say. "Umm, well, see—I looked at the other window when I heard that thing fall. Then, the next moment, I saw Miss Mia run to the left! The killer, you, attacked her… but she dodged. Umm… and then… She turned, and ran for the door! Then you did her in with a single blow! Thwap!"

_Why must you lie, White? Just say you didn't see everything that happened! You couldn't have seen everything!_

"Hmm," the judge muttered. "'Thwap' indeed. Very well, you may begin the cross-examination."

"Mr. Your Honor…" White pleaded. "My stomach, you see, it is hurting…"

"Deal with it," Wright said, shaking his head. "This is almost over." He was handed the testimony to look over. "Hold it! You heard 'that thing fall'? What exactly was 'that thing'?"

"Huh? Oh… oh, that? Umm… the glass light stand!"

"Phoenix!" Miles heard Maya say. She said something else, but he couldn't make it out.

"Mr. White," Wright pressed.

"Huh?" White asked. "W-what?"

"You're saying you saw the glass light stand?"

"Y-yes."

"Then change your testimony to reflect that!"

"S-sorry. My bad…"

"The witness will revise his testimony," the judge said.

"Okay okay. Of course," White replied. "A light stand was lying on the floor when I looked."

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "Mr. White. It was impossible for you to have seen the light stand!"

"Whaaaat!?"

"The stand broke into pieces when it fell!"

"Ooof!"

"Just by seeing the broken pieces you would have no idea it was a light stand! So tell me, exactly when was it that you saw the stand?" He slammed his desk, then pointed at White. "Answer the question!"

"I-isn't it obvious?" White stuttered after a pause. "I saw the stand before it fell over!"

"So… you saw the stand before the victim was attacked, then?"

"C-correct! That would be no problemo, right?"

_I'm really getting sick of this man's fake Spanish… It's like hearing Franziska always calling people by their full names…_

Wright shook his head. "There's a big problemo, er, I mean problem here," he said.

"What problem is this?" White countered.

"Mr. White, let me make sure I have this straight… You saw the glass light stand through the window, from the hotel, before the incident occurred?"

"Correct! That is so! It's conclusive, definitive, undeniable… unimpeachable!"

Wright hit his desk. "No, it's impossible! You couldn't have seen the stand!"

The judge silenced the gallery with a single bang of his gavel. "What?" he asked. "Why couldn't he? You have proof?"

"I sure do, Your Honor! A person in the hotel could not have seen the stand before it fell over! Look at this!" He took out the crime scene floor plans.

"These are the floor plans to the scene of the murder, yes?"

"Correct, Your Honor. Now, look… If you were to look through the window at the office… This is the area you would be able to see! Here!" He indicated an area that excluded the stand. "Well…? Note that the stand is not within the visible area! Well, Mr. White!" He pounded on his desk. "What do you have to say to that!?"

"Er… erp!" White yelped. "Ri… dicu… losity…"

_There's got to be something I've overlooked… White saw the stand, so how could he have done it without killing Mia?_

"Mr. White. If you were in the Gatewater hotel as you claim, you could not have seen the stand before it fell over! In fact, you wouldn't have been able to see it after it fell, either! There's no way you could have recognized the broken shards as a glass light stand! So, when did you see the stand, Mr. White?" Wright banged on his desk. "It must have been the moment that it fell! And the only place you could have seen that from… is inside the Fey Law Offices! In other words, you were at the scene of the crime, when the murder took place!"

"Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!" White screamed. He let his forehead drop to the top of the stand and touch it. The gallery was in an uproar. The judge eventually banged his gavel to restore order.

"Mr.… White?" the judge asked quietly. White didn't respond.

"Mr. White," Wright said. Again, no response.

_Think about the evidence. The phone, the stand, the weapon, the wiretap… Wait! The wiretap! If White entered the office to install the wiretap, he would have seen the stand!_

"You did it, didn't you?"

"Mr. Your Honor," White said. "I… I… Miss Mia…"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted.

_Truly heinous, Wright. Pressing an innocent man until he confesses to avoid your torment… Unforgivable._

"That's far enough, Phoenix Wright!" Miles barked, smiling arrogantly.

"W-what!?" Phoenix screeched with a powerful jerk. He then slumped into his usual sweating.

"Mr. White…" Miles started. White didn't respond. "I think the time has come. Shouldn't you confess your crime now, hmm?"

"W… what?" White asked. He apparently thought being innocent of murder excused his tapping of the victim's phone.

"I said, you should confess your crime," Miles repeated, pointing at White. "Ergo, confess that you placed the wiretap!" He smiled evilly.

"The w-wiretap!?" Wright repeated, sweating bullets.

"What's Edgeworth going on about?" Miles heard a voice in the gallery ask.

"Beats me. What does the—"

At that moment, the judge stopped the conversations.

"Order!" he bellowed. "Order! Mr. Edgeworth! Explain to the court what you mean by this!"

"Distinguished members of the court," Miles started, "Mr. White is slightly confused. Allow me to explain." Wright was sweating enough to turn his suit a slightly darker shade. "As you know, Mr. White is the CEO of Bluecorp. He ordered his secretary, Miss April May, to tap the law offices of Ms. Fey."

"What does that have to do…?"

"Your Honor," Miles cut him off. "The question is: when was the wiretap placed in the office, and by who?"

"No!" Wright begged. "You wouldn't!"

_I don't know if it's the truth, Wright, but I know I won't let you pin your guilt on someone else—even if you were once my friend. It is my duty to prove criminals like you guilty._

"Mr. White. In order to place the wiretap, you entered Ms. Fey's office. Am I correct…?"

White seemed to realize what Miles meant by "confess your crime."

"C-correct!" White exclaimed, suddenly full of himself again. "You are most correct, Miles!"

_You are not worthy of calling me by my first name, White._

"Give me a break!" Wright screamed.

"Yes…" White continued, "in order to place the wiretap, I breached the Fey & Co. Law offices! That is when I saw that accursed light stand!"

The judge silenced the gallery with his gavel.

"Now I'm confused," the judge said. "Please explain to the court what all this means, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Gladly, Your Honor," Miles said. _It appears I was correct… _"Mr. Phoenix Wright has made his position quite clear. He has determined that Mr. White knew the glass stand was in the office. He has shown that there was only one time Mr. White could have seen the stand: At the very moment of the murder! Thus, Mr. Wright would like you to believe that Mr. White was the murderer!"

"I see," the judge said.

"However!" Miles continued. "It is a fact that Mr. White had been to that office well before the murder took place! He went to place the wiretap! He could have seen the glass light stand then." Miles pounded his desk like a timpani. "Ergo, Mr. Phoenix Wright's theory is revealed for the baseless conjecture it is!"

The gallery started up again, stopping at the sound of the judge's gavel.

"Mr. White!" the judge called. "You will testify to the court about this wiretap!"

White showed off his jewelry. "Ahem. Leave it to me!"

Wright was sweating enough to leave a fragrant puddle at his feet.

"It was the beginning of September… the week before the murder," White said. "I had entered the Fey & Co. Law offices. Of course, I had done so to place the wiretap. That is when I saw this glass light stand."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "So, you saw the stand before the night of the incident… And this is how you were able to identify what had fallen over. By the sound?"

"Correct! That is right."

"I see. Very well Mr. Wright, you may cross-examine."

Maya said something to Wright. Wright was handed the testimony to look over and soak in his sweat. He looked over it frantically.

"D-do you have proof?" he asked, bluffing.

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "Miss April May knew the details of Ms. Fey's phone conversation! This proves that the wiretap was placed before the murder!"

"Huh… right." Wright paused and wiped some of the sweat from his forehead. "Was it really you that went into the office? Or was is Miss May?"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "Unidentified fingerprints several days old were found in the Fey & Co. Law offices. Those were obviously Mr. White's."

Wright grasped his chin, probably thinking something along the lines of "And if I know Edgeworth, he's already run a check on those prints…"

Miles took a bow. "Now, Mr. White," he said. "Tell us why you went to the Fey & Co. Law Offices."

"Of course, I had done so to place the wiretap," White replied.

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "Why did you tap Mia's phone!?"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "This has no bearing on the current case, Your Honor."

"Bluecorp is a detective agency of sorts," White explained. "We have a responsibility to protect client confidentiality!"

Wright looked at the testimony again. There was only one part that had not been pressed. "Why did you notice something as innocuous as a light stand!?" he asked, grasping his sweat-caked chin.

"The light stand was made entirely out of glass," White responded. "It was quite stylish, so I guess it made a lasting impression on me. Such a beautacious thing deserves attention, does it not? That is all."

Wright had his hands on his desk. He appeared to be shaking a little.

"Was it really you that went into the office?" he asked White. "Or was it Miss May?"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. He could have sworn Wright had asked that question already. "Unidentified fingerprints several days old were found in the Fey & Co. Law Offices," he repeated. "Those were obviously Mr. White's. Now, Mr. White. Tell us why you went to the Fey & Co. Law Offices."

"Of course, I had done so to place the wiretap," White said.

"Why did you tap Mia's phone!?" Wright badgered.

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "This has no bearing on the current case, Your Honor."

"Bluecorp is a detective agency of sorts," White said. "We have a responsibility to protect client confidentiality!"

Wright's face was sparkling from all the sweat. Miles tapped his forehead, doing his "evil smile" again.

"Tsk tsk," he chuckled. "I'm afraid that's as far as you go, Mr. Wright. The time has come for you to admit your defeat! You fought… honorably." He took a bow.

"Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Are you giving up?"

"Y-yes, Your Honor," Wright said.

"Phoenix!" a voice called. Miles looked to the source. Sometime during the trial, Maya must have switched positions with one of her fellow frauds. "Phoenix! Over here!" Maya's replacement said to Wright. Wright tapped on his chin, thinking. He then looked over to the "spirit medium." "Never give up, Phoenix!"

Wright muttered something and then fainted.

* * *

Miles returned to the Prosecution Lobby. No verdict had been given yet—the judge wanted to wait until Wright regained consciousness.

"You did splendiferously!" White said.

"It's my job," Miles said.

Neither one said anything else. Miles thought he heard Wright yell "Gak!" at some point while they waited for court to reconvene.

* * *

About ten minutes passed before court reconvened.

"The court will now reconvene for the trial of Mr. Phoenix Wright," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "Is the defendant… rather, are you alright, Mr. Wright?"

"Yes," Wright said with his left hand behind his head. "Sorry, Your Honor. I'm fine now."

"Then, let's start where we left off."

Miles smiled. "Your Honor," he said. "There is nothing to go back to! The cross-examination of Mr. White is finished! All that is required now is for you to pass judgment on the defendant Phoenix Wright!"

"Hmm…"

Wright pounded on his desk. "Your Honor!" he called. "Please, give me one more chance. I promise you, this is the last time I'll ask you!"

"Hmm… But, as Mr. Edgeworth has noted, the trial is more or less finished."

"Mr. Edgeworth, do you have an opinion on this matter?"

Miles took a bow. "I say… let us give Mr. Phoenix Wright his 'last chance.'"

"Very well!" the judge said. "You may begin your cross-examination."

"Look closely at this," Wright said, taking out the "message from the victim" that he probably wrote. "See the word 'Maya' written in blood…?"

Miles shrugged and shook his head. "Bwah hah!" he guffawed. "You're grasping!"

Wright slammed his desk. "I think not. Look at the other side of the receipt."

"Th-the other side?"

"Your Honor. Would you tell the court what is written on the other side of that receipt?" The bailiff handed the receipt to the judge.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Well! A 'glass light stand'! And the date of purchase… Why, that's the day before the murder!" the judge continued. Miles jerked back. How was that possible?

"You see!" Wright exclaimed. "Mr. White. When you allegedly entered Fey & Co. Law Offices at the beginning of September… The stand could not have been there!"

"Kwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!?" White screamed. His head was on the stand.

"Well, Mr. White? Can't get out of this one, can you?"

"No… It's impossachievable…"

"Well, Your Honor. I understand there must be quite a bit of PRESSURE on you." He hit his desk. "But I think you'll agree you can't judge me 'guilty' under these circumstances."

"Very well," the judge said, still somewhat shocked. He banged his gavel. "Then, that is all for the trial of…"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "Not so fast, Phoenix Wright!"

"Eh?" Wright hunched over, sweating again. He most likely was thinking "No way can he worm his way out of this one!" Miles took a bow.

"There is a certain thread of logic to the defendant's claims." He hit his desk. "However! There is no concrete proof that Phoenix Wright is innocent! Ergo! I would like to request one more day before Phoenix Wright is granted his freedom. I need tome to make one more inquiry into this matter."

_Specifically, why has White been lying so much when he's innocent? It's hurting the case!_

"Hmm…!" the judge exclaimed. Wright slammed on his desk.

"Mr. White's guilt is obvious!" he yelled. "There is no need to prolong this trial any further!"

"Hmm. Well, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"If anyone is going to call Mr. White to trial, it would be me, the prosecution," Miles said. "I need a day to ascertain whether your claims have any basis in factual evidence!"_ If Wright is indeed innocent, I can ask for the charges to be dropped. No harm done to the innocent, and none to my record._

"Hmm," the judge mumbled. "I see. Objection denied!"

"Whaaaat!" Wright cried. The judge pounded his gavel.

"The completion of the trial of Mr. Phoenix Wright will be postponed until tomorrow."

"Mr. Your Honor!" White called. "May I go home?"

"Of course. Thank you for your time."

"The witness will stay!" Maya's replacement shouted. She then said something to Wright and handed him a piece of paper.

"Your Honor," Wright said. "If I may…?"

"You're quite persistent today, Mr. Wright!" the judge commented.

"I have something I would like to read to the court!" He started reading a list of names. Miles recognized many of them. They had all committed suicide; he had read some of the reports.

"S-s-stop!" White interrupted. "Desist! Halt! P-please, stop! Make him stop! How… how did you get that list!?"

"Mr. White," Wright's assistant said. "Admit your guilt, right here, right now. Or else this list will be released to the press!"

_Blackmail!? They can't be serious! This is irrelevant to the case!_

"I… I confess," White sobbed. "I confess. I… I did it. I hit her. I hit Miss Mia with 'The Thinker'!"

Miles almost fainted. He managed to hold himself up with his arms.

_Impossible! Wright! You worm! Why did you have to get involved! You've ruined me!_

"Case closed, Your Honor," the assistant said.

"Well, I see no reason to continue this trial," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "Mr. Wright?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said.

"You've done it again! That was quite a spirited defense!"

"Yes, Your Honor. I guess you could say that."

"Hmm. Well! This court finds the defense… Ahem! Rather, the defendant, Mr. Phoenix Wright… Not guilty."

Cheering rose from the gallery. Cheers for Miles's defeat. Cheers for his failure. Cheers for Wright winning through blackmail.

_How can the judge give this verdict!? White was blackmailed into giving a false confession! The department was sure Wright was the killer!_

"That is all," the judge said. "The court is adjourned!"

* * *

Miles read about White's trial a week later. "Guilty." Miles had prosecuted an innocent person—two innocent people. The department, the detectives, had betrayed his trust in them. He had always been so certain that they would arrest the right person. That was why he prosecuted, and if not for justice, then for his record. But that was gone.

To make things worse, Lana was the same even after the trial. White wasn't her blackmailer. Mia had died for nothing. She and Miles had pursued a false lead. His "father" and "little sister" would probably think of him as less than nothing. With Lana distancing herself from everyone, the only family Miles had left was the von Karmas, but they would not want him after what had happened.

_Wright… Was this your revenge for my actions? For leaving without a word, letting myself be led around by a lie… Is this torment your punishment for me?_

To Miles, the only thing worse than innocent people suffering was the knowledge that he was responsible. He had always believed his ruthless way of prosecuting was justified because he believed the defendants were always guilty. But now he had been cut down for his own stupidity. He hated Gumshoe's idiocy, he hated the department's ambiguity, he hated von Karma's teachings… But above all that, he hated himself for trusting all of them. He wanted to wake up and find it was all a dream, that by some miracle he had done nothing wrong. But the miracle never happened.


	15. Part I, Chapter 14: Doubt

**Chapter 14—Doubt**

October 2, 2016

Miles had been in a form of depression ever since he lost to Wright. He took a week off from work to pull himself together. During that time, he took no calls, regardless of the caller. When he returned, he was ready to prosecute again, the same Demon Prosecutor he had always been. With the exception of "that case," he managed to maintain a perfect record. There was a difference, though. He was distant whenever he wasn't prosecuting, as though he was contemplating something so deep that no one else had the right to give him their input.

She had been debating in her mind ever since the trial whether or not to speak with him on the matter. So far, she had been convinced that he was going to be fine.

A knock sounded on the doors to her office.

"Come in," she said. Both doors were pushed open hard. Jake walked in as though he was some outlaw walking into a saloon. She had had the foresight to place doorstops a fair distance from the wall before calling Jake to her office. After getting a glare from Lana, Jake turned around and closed the doors. He then sauntered up to the chair in front of Lana's desk and placed his heels on her desk after seating himself, tipping his hat down. "Please take your feet off the desk, Officer Marshall," Lana said with a slight hint of distaste in her voice.

_Sometimes I wonder how I ever had feelings for this man_, she thought.

Jake shrugged and put his feet on the floor.

"You called, ma'am?" he asked, maintaining a tone of voice that was meant to make him sound like some star from a Western film.

"I did," Lana replied flatly. "It's about your job performance."

"Lemme guess: I haven't been showing up at my saloon."

"Exactly. A few detectives have complained that they couldn't access the evidence room because the ID Card Reader was turned off. You're supposed to be guarding the evidence room."

"A real desperado doesn't do stuff just 'cause he's supposed to."

"And a real desperado has no place in the police force. If you want to keep your job, I suggest you—"

"You're thinking about your prince, aren't you?" Jake interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

"You're petting that cat he got you." Lana realized that she had been stroking her cat statuette with her right hand.

"What I'm thinking about is irrelevant. I'm arranging for your salary to be cut. If you only guard the evidence room on rare occasions, then your pay should reflect it."

"You should go talk to him. He's been staring at the moon like a coyote, but he ain't howling. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"You may go, Officer Marshall," Lana said. "And as for a destination, I'd suggest your post."

Jake shrugged, tipped his hat to Lana, and walked out of the office. Maybe he was right. Gumshoe apparently wasn't doing too well cheering Miles up. However, she also didn't want to risk her secret. Still, there was no harm in talking to him.

She waited a few minutes until she was sure Jake had left, then she got up from her desk and went to Miles's office. She knocked on the door once, even though it was about a foot open.

"Is this important?" Miles asked wistfully from behind the door.

"It is to me," Lana said, pushing the door open and closing it behind her. She walked in. Miles was sitting at his desk, his back to the door. She could smell fresh tea. The speakers on his computer were playing _In the Steppes of Central Asia_. "Can we talk?" she asked, standing near his desk.

_If he's listening to music on the job, he really must be depressed_.

"It depends on who you mean by 'we,'" he replied. "If by 'we' you mean me and Lana, then yes. If you mean me and Ms. Skye, though, I would rather not."

Lana sighed. A small smile crossed her lips. "Very well," she said, closing the door behind her. She took a seat on the sofa, placing her arms in her lap. "You can talk with Lana, but on one condition."

"No discussion of your blackmailer? I accept." Miles turned around to face her. A cup of tea was in his right hand. A faint smile was on his face. "It's nice to see emotions on your face again," he said. "Thank you for that."

Lana closed her eyes. _Okay, now what? If you keep this up, you'll be telling him about Gant in no time._ She sighed. "I'm worried about you," she finally said.

"That's understandable," Miles said. "I've been concerned about myself. After White was proven guilty, I became ashamed of myself."

"How so?"

"I was so foolish that I allowed myself to believe without question that the defendant was always guilty." He put his tea cup down and looked out the window again. "I could have proven innocent people guilty, deprived them of thousands of dollars, sent them to prison, destroyed their families, ruined their lives… even ended them." He then looked down, his eyes closed. "I let myself be manipulated. I'm no better than Manfred von Karma!"

"Yes you are," Lana said.

"How!?" he demanded, turning to face her again.

Lana got up and took one of Miles's hands in her own. He wheeled his chair toward the sofa so she could sit down. "Miles…" she said, stroking his hand. "Von Karma only cares about his record—you said so yourself. For him, it doesn't matter if the defendant is innocent is guilty—all that matters to him is perfection. You're not like that. Yes, your record was a symbol of pride for you, but you care about justice."

"What does my reason have to do with this? I still did what I did. I prosecuted mercilessly, never once questioning the investigation."

"You would never knowingly prosecute an innocent person. It's not in you."

"Again, it means nothing. Whether I knew about it or not, the fact remains that I tried to prove at least two innocent people guilty."

"It happens," Lana said, keeping sympathy in her voice.

"It happens!?" Miles repeated, taking his hand away and looking out the window again. "That doesn't excuse my actions! People may have died because of me—innocent people!"

"Miles, look at me." Miles turned his head to face Lana. He was almost glaring. "You're not perfect. No one is. You've said yourself that there is never any way to know for sure that the defendant is guilty or innocent. All you can do is hope the investigators arrested the right person."

"Again, that's no—"

"You're right, it's no excuse for proving innocent people guilty. But look at it the other way around. Few people who are put on trial actually are innocent. For the few who are, we have the trial system so that our mistakes can be caught. Even then, the system's not perfect. Sometimes, innocent people are convicted. Sometimes, criminals are acquitted. At the least, you should be proud that no criminal has gone free on your watch."

Miles's face looked somewhat calmer, but it was obvious that he was still struggling. Lana took his hand again, this time with both of her hands. She looked him directly in the eyes. His eyes avoided hers.

"I can tell this is hard for you. But I think I also understand why. You thought you were always right. You always focused only on the task before you. As long as you had no doubt, you would feel secure. It was only when you lost to Wright—"

Miles jerked a little at the mention of Wright. Lana held his hand a little tighter and waited for him to settle down. She looked back into his eyes.

"It was only then that you saw that the investigations weren't perfect. As a result, you saw that you were not perfect, and so you began to doubt yourself. Thus, your current state of mind."

"And what do I do about it!?" he begged. His eyes were still evasive.

"Accept it."

"Accept it!?"

"Doubt's not something you can get rid of, but you can limit its effect on you. It's going to keep torturing you like this until you accept its presence."

"You mean I have to live with this weakness?" he muttered, almost inaudible, facing away again.

"Don't be fooled into thinking you're weak. Even strong people doubt themselves. Sometimes even the right choice is one you'll regret. Accept the few weaknesses you have and return to your more plentiful strengths."

Miles didn't respond. He sighed through his nose, still avoiding Lana's gaze.

"You're stronger than you're letting yourself think. The only weak thing you can do in this situation is let yourself be tortured like this." It then occurred to her that Miles probably also felt weak because he had to be comforted. "Am I helping at all?" she asked.

"You are…" Miles managed to say, turning to face her, but still not looking her in the eyes. "I'm just bothered that I need your help…"

"I told you. No one's perfect. Even people like you need help from time to time."

Miles didn't have a response for that.

"Well, you certainly can't get married alone," Lana said. "Besides, isn't that part of marriage? Depending on one another?" She smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "You didn't think I'd just let you work alone once we got married, did you?"

Miles finally looked Lana in the eyes. Whether it was because he saw the smile or because he really was willing to look at her was beyond her.

"I'm sorry I made you worry," he said, closing his eyes. He opened them after a few seconds, looking directly into her eyes. "Thank you for talking to me." His voice sounded much calmer now. "I needed your help." Lana felt her smile change. She was no longer smiling to cheer Miles up. She smiled because she felt like smiling.

"Thank you for listening," Lana said. "I think you'll do just fine."

"One more thing: could you please keep this moment of weakness a secret?"

"I don't think you were weak at all, but I will."

She let go of Miles's hands and stood up to leave. Miles stood up quickly and embraced her before she could leave the office. Sighing, she put her arms around Miles. The sigh was not one of annoyance, but not one of pleasure or amusement, either. Miles's hug had been a bit of a childish impulse, but she had no problem with it.

"I love you," Miles said, still holding Lana.

"I love you, too," Lana replied as Miles released her. She then walked out of the office, fighting to remove her smile and return to her "normal" self as she did so. She closed the door behind her.

"Sounds like a couple of prospectors found gold," a familiar voice said a moment after Lana closed the door. Jake was leaning against the wall, his hat covering his eyes and his arms crossed.

"Consider yourself lucky I can't fire people for personal reasons," Lana said. She no longer needed to fight to remove her smile. Jake simply laughed. He tipped his hat back as he straightened up.

"I don't care what you think about me, Chief. But I do care what happens to you. If you're happy with that caballero, I don't got a mind to drag you away from him. He won. I lost. End of story."

"Get back to your post, Marshall."

With a shrug, Jake walked to the elevator to leave. Whether he left for his post or somewhere else was something Lana did not know, and at the moment, she did not care.

_I'll bet he had that whole thing planned out from the start_, she thought.

Lana returned to her office and seated herself. She saw the porcelain cat and began stroking it as though it were Barbara or Katara. It had been a long time since she had been able to be herself, and it would probably be a long time before she could again. Miles was not the only one who had needed that conversation. Not only did it relieve much of the stress Miles had, it had also relieved much of hers.


	16. Part I, Chapter 15: The Wicked Witch

**Chapter 15—The Wicked Witch of the Witness Stand**

October 18, 2016

"The court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Will Powers," Judge Clous said with a whack of his gavel.

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," Miles said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said.

_Wright… This should be interesting._ Miles could practically sense what the gallery—and even the judge—thought. Wright had ruined Miles's perfect record. He probably had revenge on his mind. For some reason, Maya Fey was there. No matter; her role was unimportant.

"Very well," the judge said. "Mr. Edgeworth, your opening statement, please."

"The prosecution will show the court that at 2:30 PM on October 15, the defendant, Mr. Will Powers, killed fellow actor Jack Hammer at Studio One of Global Studios. It is impossible for anyone else to have committed this heinous crime. The evidence presented during this trial will all point to this fact."

"Hmm. I see. Very well, I would like to move on to your testimony. Mr. Edgeworth, the prosecution may call its first witness."

"First, I would like to call a familiar face, Detective Gumshoe, to the stand," Miles said. Gumshoe took the stand. "Detective, if you would briefly describe this case to the court?"

"Yes sir!" Gumshoe said. "I'll explain with the guidemap here." Gumshoe reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat and pulled out a guidemap. "To understand this case, it's important to grasp the layout of the studios, see? This here is the Employee Area." He pointed to the Employee Area. "The actors did a run-through of their action scenes during the morning here." This is the main gate to the studios," he continued, pointing to the main gate. "The security lady that works at the studios was here at 1:00 PM on that day." He then pointed to the gate to the studios. "Past the security station there is a gate, see? Past that are the studios." He pointed to Studio One. "And here it is… Studio One. This is the scene of the murder, where the body was found!

"Now, on the day of the murder, October 15, there were only three people here. The victim, Jack Hammer, the defendant, Will Powers, and a young woman, the production assistant. All the production staff were in the Employee Area until noon. The after lunch, the victim, Jack Hammer, went to Studio One. Right after that, at 1:00 PM, the security lady got to the guard station. Now, jump ahead to later that day… 5:00 PM. The production staff came to Studio One to perform a rehearsal. Needless to say, the rehearsal was cancelled… The time of death was 2:30 PM. The 'Samurai Spear' found lodged in the victim's chest was the murder weapon. That's the case, in brief. Anyone like to hear that again?"

_Amazing. He actually sounded like he knew what he was doing for a change._

"So the murder weapon was a 'spear'?" the judge asked. "How… medieval!"

"Your Honor," Miles said. "This case is quite simple if you ask one question: and that question is: 'What did the security lady at the guard station see?'"

"Understood."

"Let's call this security officer to the stand!"

Gumshoe stepped down from the stand, replaced by an elderly woman who appeared to be in her late sixties and relatively good health. She was in her security uniform.

"Will the witness declare her name?" Miles requested.

The witness didn't respond for a moment. She then began to blush.

"Hmm? My, aren't you a handsome fellow!" she commented. "I'm afraid I'm a bit flustered!"

Miles jerked back. _Why do I always get the characters!?_ He recovered and placed his right hand on his desk. "Y-your name, please!"

"Oh, dearie! No need for you to be embarrassed! Just call me 'grandma.'"

"YOUR NAME, PLEASE!" Miles demanded, hunched over.

_The only thing I'm embarrassed about is not having a normal witness!_

"Wendy Oldbag, dearie. So just call me 'grandma.' It's practically my name! So even when I was young I was an Oldbag, but not really that was just my name dearie. Still how the other children would make fun of me and just because of my name can you believe it? But there was this boy, the captain of the chess club in junior high, and when he called me an old bag well I just cried and cried because I had a crush on him you see—"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "O-objection! I… object to the witness's talkativeness."

"Objection sustained!" the judge said in agreement. "The witness will refrain from rambling on the stand."

"I was just getting to the good part, dearie!" Oldbag complained.

"Perhaps we can get to the testimony?" Miles suggested, back to normal.

"Now, the witness was stationed at the main gate on the day of the murder, correct?" the judge asked.

"Yessey I was," Oldbag replied.

"And to get to the scene of the murder, someone would have to pass by you?"

"You know your stuff, dearie!"

"You may begin your testimony," the judge said after a brief pause. Wright was already sweating.

_Just no rambling, please._

"On the day of the murder, I arrived at the guard station at 1:00 PM. Poor old Hammer and the rest had been doing a run-through there since the morning. I, well, I had some errands to run that morning. Anyway, it was 1:00 when I got to the guard station. I was at the main gate from then until 5:00! Now, the murder happened at 2:30 PM, right? Interesting to me, because a certain man walked right by me at 2:00 PM. It was Powers! That man right there, and he was heading toward the studio!"

"You saw the defendant, then?" the judge asked. "Hmm… Very well. Let's begin the cross-examination. Mr. Wright?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said. He slammed his desk almost instantly. "Let me get this straight, old bag! Er, Ms. Oldbag! You've been saying since yesterday that you 'saw Mr. Powers,' correct? But you're talking about the man in this photo, aren't you!" Wright showed Oldbag a photograph.

_I had a feeling that photo would come up. How Wright got his hands on a copy is another question entirely._

"J-just a moment, Mr. Wright," the judge interrupted. "Let me see that photo!" The judge took a look. "What is this, exactly?"

"None other than the Steel Samurai, defender of Neo Olde Tokyo." Wright hit his desk. "Ms. Oldbag! Is this the 'Mr. Powers' that you saw!?"

"Of course!" Oldbag replied. "Didn't your momma teach you any sense, sonny? Anyone can plainly see that's Powers! Right?"

"Um, yeah," Miles said, hunching over. _Her line of logic is almost as bad as the judge's…_ He paused, regaining his composure. _Don't fight blind, Miles. _"Umm… well. I wonder?"

"True, Mr. Powers does play the role of the Steel Samurai!" Wright said. He pounded on his desk and then pointed at Oldbag. "But that doesn't mean Mr. Powers IS the Steel Samurai!"

"I… I know that!" Oldbag yowled. "I wasn't born yesterday!"

_She's missing the point completely. I wonder if she's related to the judge…_

"No one in this court is accusing you of that, Ms… er, witness." the judge hesitated to say. "However, you do not have proof that the person in this photo is Mr. Will Powers, do you?"

"Humph! Nosey old man! Of course I have proof!"

"What!?" Wright yelped.

"Huh!?" Miles added. _I was never told this!_ "The prosecution would like to ask the old… the witness. Please make known all the information in your possession ahead of time!"

"How was I to know everyone would be so nosy! You should be ashamed, all of you! Anyway, I showed that photo to the young detective. He told me 'this isn't any good as evidence, pal.' He didn't even give it a second look!"

Miles jerked back and broke his fall with his arms. _And you still used it to support your argument!?_

"Let's hear about your proof, then," the judge said.

"I never say anything I don't mean, mind you!" Oldbag explained. "That morning, during the run-through of the action scene… I saw Powers trip and fall! He broke one of the props, it was a big mess. Apparently, he sprained his ankle pretty bad. Now, look at that picture! You can see he's dragging his leg! See? Clear as day! That's how I knew it was Powers. Happy?"

"Hmm. So he had sprained his ankle…? Very well. Mr. Wright, you may cross-examine the witness."

Wright looked over the testimony. "Umm…"

"Whippersnapper!" Oldbag yelled. Wright began to sweat. "I'll have you know I'm not pointing fingers at anyone behind their backs! Everything I've said is on the straight and narrow! The up and up! Youth today! Always whining about each other, pointing fingers this way and that! It's enough to make an old lady want to cry…"

Miles slammed his desk, cutting the witness off. "Mr. Wright!" he demanded. "Please, for all our sakes, try not to upset the witness!"

Wright had a stupid grin on his face, his hand behind his head. He put his hand back and returned to his normal expression. "Who was present at the run-through?" he asked.

"Well, let's see…" Oldbag said, trying to jog her memory. "There was Powers, he's the Steel Samurai… Then poor old Hammer, the Evil Magistrate. And… me."

"And what exactly were you doing?" the judge asked.

"Observing! Just… observing."

"What about the assistant?" Wright asked.

"Oh, she was off moving backdrops around and such. I saw Powers trip and fall!"

"Hold it! 'Trip and fall'…?"

"Yes! And to think, he's supposed to be the Steel Samurai! What a laugh! So Powers sprained his ankle. I helped make it better for him, of course."

"You… helped make it better?" the judge asked.

"I kissed it where it hurt," Oldbag said.

_She may be in decent physical health, but I wouldn't say the same about mental health…_

"L-let's just skip over that part, shall we?" the judge insisted.

"Where was the assistant then?" Wright asked.

"Oh, her?" Oldbag confirmed. "She was cleaning up backdrops, I think. She didn't know about Powers's ankle."

_Which means if someone was posing as the Steel Samurai, it couldn't have been the assistant._

"You may continue your testimony," Miles said.

"He broke one of the props, it was a big mess."

"Hold it!" Wright cut in. "He broke a prop?"

"Sure did! His own Samurai Spear. Luckily I was there with my duct tape to fix it."

_Hence the tape and her fingerprints on the murder weapon…_

"Was Mr. Powers's ankle badly sprained?" Wright continued.

"Not so bad that he couldn't walk around," Oldbag answered. "He went to his dressing room to rest up after lunch. Anyway, I saw him dragging his foot when he walked."

Miles hit his desk with his right hand. "I think we've heard enough!" he said. "Haven't we, Your Honor?"

"Well, there is one thing that bothers me," the judge responded.

"Which is?"

"Where is this 'Steel Samurai' costume now?"

"Umm… hmm. Actually, well… We couldn't find it."

_Which is always a possibility with Gumshoe handling the investigation._

"We're looking, though," Miles continued.

"Hmm…"

"Anyway, that's not important! The witness did see the Steel Samurai, yes." He put the testimony transcript down and shrugged, shaking his head. "And it is clear that the person in the Steel Samurai suit was Mr. Will Powers!"

"Hmm… I suppose that's right."

_I think I know what's next,_ Miles thought, looking at Wright.

Right on cue, Wright pounded on his desk. "Hold it right there!" he ordered. "We keep talking possibilities, but we have to agree that this photo shows the Steel Samurai!" He pointed at the judge. "Nowhere in this photo can we see Mr. Will Powers!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "The defense has a point. I also wonder if someone else not caught on camera could have killed Mr. Hammer. We have to consider that possibility, also."

Miles did his "evil smile." "Then allow me to remove that doubt from your mind, Your Honor…" he said. "Will the witness continue her testimony, please?"

"No need to ask twice!" Oldbag chirped. "The time of poor Hammer's death was 2:30 PM, true? The only person I saw go to the studio before then was Will Powers! No one else went there! If they had, I would have seen them!"

"Hmm…" the judge muttered. "So, if no one else went to the studio… Then it would have to be this 'Steel Samurai' who did it. Mr. Wright, you may cross-examine the witness."

Wright looked at the testimony, then at the photo he had a copy of. He slammed his desk. "Hold on!" he shouted. "Look at this photograph one more time. This photo was taken by the camera at the gate for the studios, correct?"

"Yesiree, sonny," Oldbag answered.

"So, whenever anyone passes by here, it automatically takes a picture?"

"And here I thought you didn't know your head from a hole in the ground."

"Right… Anyway! It's also true that the computer in the guard station records all security cam data."

"Ooh! You know, if you wanted to work at the studio, we might have an opening."

"That very computer printed out this photo. Note that on the back of the photo are printed the words: Oct 15, 2:00 PM, Photo #2"

_Photo number two!? What's the meaning of this!? Gumshoe has some explaining to do…_

"Even I know that means it was taken at 2:00 PM on October the 15th! Really, sonny!"

"Actually, I knew that too," Wright said. "The issue here is the bit at the end where it says: 'Photo #2'…"

"'Photo #2'…?"

"The computer only held data for one photo on that day. Don't you think that's odd?" He slammed his desk. "Shouldn't this photo be 'Photo #1' if it really was the ONLY photo!?"

The gallery started up. The judge restored order.

"Order! Order!" he ordered. "Please tell the court what you mean by this, Mr. Wright!"

"Actually, that's what I want to ask the witness," Wright said, a confident smile on his face. He started flicking the photograph. "This evidence shows that not one, but two people went to the studio that day. Yet there is only data for one of the photos! Who could have erased the data for the other photo?" He banged on his desk and then pointed accusingly at the witness. "Only someone with access… the security lady herself!"

"Eh!?" Oldbag yelped. "You watch your mouth, whippersnapper! The only person I saw that day was Will Powers!"

"But the camera on the gate fired twice! That means two people went by!"

"Umm… well, yes… that's what it would seem to mean…"

"Can the witness explain this to the court?" the judge asked.

"Umm… ahem. I-I don't understand these new-fangled computer things… Umm… E-Edgey-boy! Help!"

"Huh!?" He jerked back, then regained his composure and hit his desk. "B-believe me, I want to, but I don't know what this means either."

"Humph! Some help you are! You're a whippersnapper too!"

_How I wish I had Franziska's whip right now…_

The witness was quiet for once. Something must have clicked in her mind.

"Whippersnapper…" she muttered, probably not realizing she was thinking out loud.

"Something the matter, Ms. Oldbag?" the judge asked.

"Ah! That's right! I… I just remembered something!"

"Let me guess… Someone else passed by the gate… someone other than the Steel Samurai?"

"Er… well, yes, I suppose you could put it that way."

The gallery started up, mostly complaining about the decrepit old hen Wright had the misfortune of having to cross-examine. The judge banged his gavel with a sigh.

"I see," he said. "Your testimony, please."

_I actually feel sorry for Wright. It's at times like these that I'm glad I chose to become a prosecutor._

"Every day," Oldbag started, "after I finish my guard duties, I have one other important job to do. I go through the photos recorded on the security computer and check them. I throw out any photos that aren't suspicious lookin', you see. Come to think of it, now I remember throwing out one photo that day!"

"M-Ms. Oldbag!" Miles complained, slumped over his desk. "This is the first I've heard of this!"

"Well, of course, sonny! I've only just remembered it."

"Right… anyway," the judge said, "Mr. Wright, please begin the cross-examination."

Maya said something sarcastic-sounding to Wright. _At least I'm not the only person fed up with this hag…_

Wright looked over the testimony, clearly exasperated. "Well, who in the heck was in that photo you erased!?" he demanded.

"Humph," Oldbag scoffed. "A fanboy."

"F-fanboy?"

"Steel Samurai fanboys. Real freaks, if you ask me. They get information about the rehearsals from gosh-knows-where. They're always hanging out. One was there that day."

"Objection!" Wright shouted. He slammed his desk hard. "W-wait a second! Didn't you just say no one else could get in!? 'I locked the main gate so no one could get in'… Those were your words!"

"Well! If you must know, there's a drain that goes into the Employee Area. The grate has been loose for a while. It leads outside, and well, that's where they come in."

"They come in through the drain?" Wright confirmed, sweating.

"I told you they were freaks. Oh, and…"

"And…?"

"They're kids. Children. Whippersnappers."

"K-kids!?" Wright repeated as he jerked back in shock. He returned to sweating after that. "So, on the photo that you erased…?"

"It was a boy. Probably 2nd or 3rd grade."

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaat!?" Wright screamed.

_She's as lousy of a guard as she is a witness…_

The gallery had a field day discussing that until the judge silenced them.

"O-order! Order!" he demanded. "Let me get this straight. You saw two people pass by the gate on their way to the studios that day? One was the Steel Samurai, dragging his leg. The other was a boy who looked to be in about 2nd or 3rd grade?"

"Oh yes, well we see his type there every day," Oldbag said. "Can't stop 'em. Can't catch 'em."

"A boy in 2nd or 3rd grade?" Miles confirmed. "Hmm… I assume it would be hard, if not impossible for a young boy to wield the Samurai Spear?"

"Impossible, I'd think," the judge said. "It's quite heavy."

"Right!" Oldbag chimed in. "As I said, I didn't pay him much mind. That's why I erased the data."

Maya asked Wright a question. Wright said something in response. The judge banged his gavel.

"I'd like to take a five minute recess," the judge said. "I want the defense and the prosecution to consider this new information… And no forgetting vital information this time!"

"_Consider this new information"? What is there to consider? A boy couldn't properly wield the Samurai Spear! The only possibility if Powers is innocent is that someone stole his costume!_

* * *

Miles did not even bother to return to the Prosecution Lobby. After five minutes, the judge banged his gavel to silence the gallery.

"The court will now reconvene for the trial of Mr. Will Powers," he said. "Mr. Edgeworth, will you present the prosecution's thoughts on this matter?"

"The prosecution's thoughts are simple," Miles said. He shrugged and shook his head in amusement at the waste of time. "Nothing has changed. The other person who went to the studios was a boy of roughly 10 years of age. The photo we do have may not be hard evidence…" He pounded on his desk. "But there is still no one else that could have committed this crime! I call for a verdict of 'guilty' for the defendant, Mr. Will Powers!"

"Hmm… Very well. Mr. Wright, your thoughts?"

"The defense disagrees with the prosecution's claim," Wright said. How predictable. He slammed on his desk. "There IS another person who could have committed this crime!"

The gallery started up, promptly silenced by a whack of the judge's gavel.

"Order!" he shouted. "Interesting… Let us hear who you have in mind! However… Be aware that this court does not look kindly on accusing the innocent. If you accuse someone who is obviously innocent, you will be penalized."

Wright was sweating, an obvious sign that he was going to try to bluff his way into a suspension.

"So, who was this person other than Mr. Powers that could have committed murder?"

Wright pounded on his desk, then pointed at Oldbag. "It was the security lady! Wendy Oldbag!"

"W-who!?" Oldbag screeched.

"The Steel Samurai is dragging his leg in this picture. That means whoever was in the suit knew about that morning's injury. Maybe because… they had been watching the action scene run-through! There was only one person other than Powers and Hammer who knew about the injury. The security lady, Oldbag!"

"W-what!? Whippersnapper!"

The gallery began muttering again until the judge restored order.

"Order! Order!" the judge demanded. "I-is this true, Oldbag!?"

"Oldbag!?" the witness repeated. "That's Ms. Oldbag to you!"

"Ms. Oldbag was standing guard alone at the main gate," Wright said. "She was by herself… in other words, she has no alibi! She could have briefly left her post to steal the Steel Samurai costume…" He slammed his desk. "Then slipped into Studio One, the scene of the murder!"

"W-why would she go through the trouble of wearing the Steel Samurai costume!?" the judge asked.

"Simple, Your Honor. She knew the camera at the gate would take her picture. If she was in his costume, she could point the finger at Mr. Powers!"

"I see! Excellent deductive reasoning, Mr. Wright."

Wright had an extremely confident smile on his face. He then stopped smiling, looking at Miles. He started tapping on his chin. Obviously, he expected an objection.

"Well, Mr. Edgeworth?" the judge asked. "Does the prosecution have an opinion on this matter?"

Miles had his arms crossed, thinking. _Wright has a point, though I imagine he's incorrect. Best not to object until I have some evidence._ "The prosecution has no meaningful objections at this time," he said.

"W-w-what!?" Oldbag screamed. "What's that supposed to mean!? Oh, so you all think I did it! Is that it!? Edgey-boy! Don't just sit there, do something!"

Miles said nothing as Wright slammed his desk.

"The very same reasoning that makes Mr. Powers a suspect in this case…" Wright started, "can be used to cast doubt on Ms. Oldbag's actions on that day!"

"B-but why would I do something so horrible to poor hammer!?" she cried. Wright shook his head.

"You forget that Mr. Powers lacks a clear motive, too."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Indeed."

_I suppose it is possible that Oldbag is the killer. There's no proof that she's innocent, after all._

"Wait just a minute!" Oldbag shrieked. "What about the other person who went to the studio!? The boy! The one whose photo I erased!"

_There's no way a boy that age could kill anyone with the Samurai Spear._

"He's only a grade schooler though, as you said," the judge replied. "2nd or 3rd grade, was it?"

"Th-that doesn't matter! When I was that age, I could pin my old man in 10 seconds, tops!"

"Hmm… Your thoughts, Mr. Wright?"

"That boy is not the killer," Wright said.

"What!?" Oldbag yelled. "How can you be so sure! Oh, or is it be nice to the kids and mean to your elders day? Whippersnapper!"

_This woman is pathetic…_

"I have proof," Wright said.

"P-proof!?"

"Indeed?" the judge asked. "Then let's see this proof, Mr. Wright. You have proof that shows the boy could not have committed this murder?"

_Amazing… Well, he _is _Judge Clous, after all._

"Your Honor!" Wright called. "The murder weapon was the Samurai Spear. That very spear is shown here in this photo." He slammed his desk. "How could the boy have taken the spear? It's impossible!"

"I see!" the judge said. "Well, would the witness care to comment on this?"

"Mrph," Oldbag spat.

_She's actually quiet for once… Next we'll see Gumshoe thinking…_

"Very well!" the judge said. He banged his gavel. "This court will suspend proceedings on the current trial for today. Mr. Edgeworth, please find out more about your witness, Ms. Windy… what was her name?"

"Something 'Oldbag,' Your Honor," Miles said.

"Then the prosecution will look further into this Oldbag before we continue! That is all. The court is adjourned!" He banged his gavel.

"W-wait a second!" Oldbag yelled. "I'm not going to just sit here while you run off barking up the wrong tree… me! I'm talking!"

_You almost always are._

"Oh, great, stop the presses!" Maya sighed, almost inaudible. "The windbag wants to talk!"

"Ms. Oldbag!" the judge barked. "What is this all about? Have you omitted something from your testimony?"

"Actually," Oldbag started, "if you must know, there's something I was told not to talk about."

"N-not to talk about!?" Wright cried.

"By whom!?" Miles blurted.

"W-well, testify!" the judge ordered.

Miles pushed himself off of his desk. The right elbow of his jacket probably had a stain on it from the polish.

"Global Studios wanted me to keep quiet about something," Oldbag said. "There were… some other people at the studios on the day of the murder. They said they had 'nothing to do with it,' see? So they told me to just pretend they 'hadn't been at the studios that day.' But if you're going to go accusing me, I'm not letting them get away scot free!"

"M-Ms. Oldbag!" the judge shouted. "This is crucial information! Why did you keep this from the court until now!?"

"Ain't you been listening? They told me to shut my trap, and I always do what I'm told."

_Somehow, I don't think you'd do as you're told if I told you to be quiet…_

"Mr. Wright… Your cross-examination."

"So, you were told not to talk?" Wright asked.

"That's right!" Oldbag chirped. "By the studio and TV bigwigs, no less!"

"Why didn't I hear about this!?" Miles demanded through gritted teeth.

"Don't be too hard on yourself; sonny. We were all in on it."

_This woman makes Gumshoe seem like a genius!_

"There were… some other people at the studios on the day of the murder," Oldbag continued.

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "W-who were these people!?"

"Well, the director and the producer, for starters…"

"The… director?"

"We should have known something was fishy!" Miles said. "How could they have done a run-through of their action scene without a director?" He hit his desk in annoyance at his own failure to notice beforehand. "Of course!"

"Yes, well, I was surprised no one asked about it."

"So, where were these people?" Wright asked.

"The director was in the Employee Area all morning for the run-through. He joined the producer around lunchtime and they had a meeting after that."

"Where!" Miles demanded.

"Oh, in the Studio Two trailer."

"S-Studio Two…!?" Wright asked.

"Well, if you look at the guidemap…" She took out her own map and pointed at Studio Two. "Here it is. You go through the gate and all the way to the left."

"Well, Mr. Wright…" the judge said. "Would you like to continue the cross-examination…?"

"Your Honor," Wright said. "We have learned there were others at Global Studios on the day in question. The director and the producer and, er, some bigwigs, were all present." He hit his desk. "Yet, as we stand here, they have not been questioned! I hold that it is impossible to declare a verdict on the defendant, Mr. Powers!"

"Hmm…" The judge banged his gavel. "The court acknowledges the defense's point. The prosecution will gather more information about the witness, Ms. Oldbag… and more information about these other people we have just been told of!"

_This cursed woman… How could she have kept all of this from me!?_

"I understand, Your Honor," Miles said, hunched over his desk.

"This ends the day's proceedings in the trial of Mr. Will Powers. That is all. The court is adjourned!"

* * *

Miles entered the Prosecution Lobby and saw Gumshoe waiting there with two paper cups of coffee from some coffee shop: one for himself, and one for Miles, no doubt.

"Coffee, sir?" Gumshoe asked. Miles took a cup in his left hand and removed the lid. Gumshoe took his own cup and did the same, taking a large gulp. He jerked almost an instant later. "Hot! Hot!" He started pounding on his chest with his free hand. He gasped a few times.

"That is why you should sip, Detective," Miles said, taking a sip of his own coffee. _At least he remembered that I prefer my coffee black._

"So, how'd it go, pal?"

"We had to suspend."

"Why, sir? I thought Ms. Oldbag would seal the case shut." Miles felt his hand tighten at the mention of the witch.

"Aaaaarrrggh!" Miles cried in pain, dropping the cup he had crushed in his hand.

"Aaaaah!" Gumshoe screamed, no doubt caught off-guard by Miles's cry.

Miles shook his left hand vigorously, doing all he could to get the scalding coffee off. After a few seconds, he held his hand still so he could roll up the sleeves of his jacket and shirt so the wet parts were not touching his skin. He then resumed whipping his hand around as he reached into his coat pocket and took out a handkerchief to wipe off the remaining coffee.

"That woman was anything but helpful!" Miles spat. "There were several other people who had an opportunity to commit the crime, and she had kept silent about it on their orders!"

"What!? R-really, sir!?"

"Yes, really. Gumshoe, I want you to get as much information as you can on these people."

"Yes, sir!" Gumshoe gulped down some more coffee, shuddered at the heat, took another gulp, shuddered again, took a fourth gulp, shuddered, and dropped the now-empty cup on the floor. He saluted and ran out the door.

_Idiot. Still, can't fault him for a lack of enthusiasm…_


	17. Part I, Chapter 16: Innocent or Guilty

**Chapter 16—Innocent or Guilty  
**

October 19, 2016

At Miles's request, Lana went to see the second day of Powers's trial—for moral support, even if she couldn't do anything other than watch. She had nothing else to do that day, so Gant was willing to let her. She was waiting in the gallery for the trial to begin. Miles was already at the prosecution bench, looking over the files. Wright went in with Maya a few minutes before court was scheduled to convene. Lana had looked over the information on Maya herself. Considering how much she resembled Mia at the moment, Lana concluded that she was channeling Mia to help Wright.

Miles, of course, thought such things as spirit channeling and the paranormal were utter nonsense. Had Lana not once seen Mia channel her father during their college days, she would have thought the same. Judge Clous entered and banged his gavel.

"The court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Will Powers," he said.

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," Miles said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said.

"Very well," the judge replied. "Mr. Edgeworth, your opening statement, please."

"An unexpected fact has come to the attention of the court," Miles stated. "Yesterday, we learned that there were other people present at the studios! Today, I would like to show evidence proving they had nothing to do with the murder."

"Very well. You may call your first witness, Mr. Edgeworth."

"The prosecution calls Mr. Sal Manella to the stand."

A somewhat corpulent man with obvious acne and wearing a Steel Samurai souvenir hat took the stand. Sal Manella, the director of _The Steel Samurai_.

"Will the witness state his name and profession?" Miles requested.

"How r00d can j00 get!" Manella complained. "J00 don't know ME!? I'm the director! I make the Steel Samurai, n00b! ROFL!"

_I'm willing to bet he's also an Internet addict._

Miles had his arms crossed calmly. Manella noticed his outburst had been frowned upon and started sweating.

"S… Sal Manella," the witness stammered. "I'm a director. Television."

"Were you at Global Studios on the day of the murder?" the judge asked.

"Y-yes, Your Honor."

"Hmm… Very well. Please testify to the court about the events of that day."

"Mia" said something to Wright. A briefing, no doubt.

"I was at the studios from around 9:00 that morning," Manella said, beginning his testimony. "During the morning, I was doing… umm… an action scene run-through. It took a lot more time than I thought it would. I hear that everyone else ate lunch in the Employee Area… But I had a meeting in the Studio Two Trailer, so I ended up skipping lunch. We were in the meeting until around 4:00… During the meeting, well, I'm pretty sure no one left their chairs. That's about it."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "The time of Mr. Hammer's death was 2:30 PM. And according to your testimony, you were in a meeting at that time. Mr. Wright, you may begin your cross-examination."

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said. He looked at Manella. "So, in the end, you didn't get to eat?" he asked, grasping his chin.

"Yeah," Manella said. "No steak, at least! Can j00 believe it?"

"That must have been tough," Wright said, the sarcasm in his voice as obvious as the sweat running down his face.

"Phoenix," Mia said.

"Yeah?"

Mia asked another question, but Lana couldn't make it out. Wright said something in response.

"Mr. Manella!" he then said to the witness.

"H-hmm?" Manella stuttered, sweating. "W-what do j00 mean? sweats"

_He is definitely an Internet addict. It's a sad, sad day when leet becomes a spoken language._

"When I went to that trailer," Wright continued, "I saw something on the table. There were two plates on the table—the same kind of plates as in the Employee Area." He pointed at Manella. "Who ate lunch there?"

"M-mmpf! No, er, ah, um, eh heh. Good call! sweats I, er, I was embarrassed so I didn't mention it… But I did eat, after all." Manella's tongue hung out and he started drooling a bit.

_Disturbing…_

"A t-bone steak, you mean?" Wright asked.

"Yeah, well, I mean the assistant went through all that trouble… I brought it to the trailer, thinking I could eat it later."

_I'm guessing good behavior isn't one of the criteria for getting a job there…_

"So, when exactly did you eat it?"

"We took one break during that meeting. I, er, wolfed it down then. drool"

Wright was sweating—understandably so; the witness was a very disgusting excuse for a man. Wright started tapping his chin, thinking.

"We were in the meeting till around 4:00…" Manella said, restating his testimony. "During the meeting, well, I'm pretty sure no one left their chairs."

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "You didn't take a single break?"

"Er… well… Y-yeah! Not a one! sweats"

_Even Gumshoe could see the contradiction there._

Wright started thinking. He then slammed on his desk.

"Wait a second!" he demanded. "Mr. Manella, you've just contradicted yourself! Didn't you just tell the court that you ate that t-bone steak during a break?"

"Oops!" Manella blurted. "ROFL!"

_It is way too easy to picture this fellow's home life._

"Well?"

"Umm…"

"Mr. Manella, what's this all about?" the judge asked.

"W-well, yeah, I guess we did take a little break."

"Phoenix!" Mia exclaimed. "Great job!" She continued by saying something else, but it wasn't loud enough for Lana to hear.

"Your Honor!" Wright said. "I call on the witness to testify to the court about this break!"

"Very well," the judge replied. "Mr. Manella, your testimony, please."

"Urk!" Manella yelped.

"Heh heh heh…" Miles chuckled. Wright started sweating. He had learned to fear the Demon Prosecutor.

"Yeah, FWIW, we took a break…" Manella said. "ROFL! But it was only 15 minutes! 15! That's only 13 in Base 12! Not enough time for someone to, say, commit murder in Studio One! LOL! That's only just enough time to eat a t-bone steak, if you ask me! steams"

"Hmm…" the judge muttered. "I don't think it would even be enough time for that, but that's just me. Very well. You may begin the cross-examination."

"What time exactly did you take this break?" Wright asked, sparing no time.

"Hmm…" Manella mumbled, trying to recall. "I'd say it was from around 2:30 or so until 2:45."

Wright started flicking the testimony. He had seen the coincidence. Miles didn't say anything. It was only a coincidence, after all.

"But it was only 15 minutes!" Manella insisted, apparently recalling the time of the murder. "15! That's only 13 in Base 12!"

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "What were you doing for those 15 minutes?"

_What do you think, Wright?_

"Eating my t-bone steak!" Manella replied. "What else!?"

"There were two plates on the trailer table…?"

"Oh, right. The other one was Diva's… sorry, Dee Vasquez's plate."

"To eat a t-bone steak in 15 minutes…" Miles commented, "that's quite a feat."

"Not enough time for someone to, say, commit murder in Studio One! LOL!"

"Hold it!" Wright yelled again. "Why is that?"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "Haven't we had enough of this pointless line of questioning? Your Honor! The testimony to this point has made one certain fact painfully clear: The people in the trailer had nothing to do with this murder! It was impossible for any of them to go to Studio One!"

"What!?" Wright barked.

"Something wrong, Mr. Wright?" Miles taunted. "Surely you aren't suggesting one of the people in the trailer went to Studio One!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Well, Mr. Wright?" he asked.

Mia said something to Wright.

"Do you claim someone from the trailer went to Studio One?" the judge continued.

"The victim was murdered at 2:30, the exact time of the break in the meeting," Wright said. "With 15 minutes, murder is certainly a possibility!"

"Hmm… I suppose you might say that…"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" Miles laughed. He shook his head in amusement. "Never a dull moment with you, Mr. Wright!"

"What's your point, Edgeworth!" Wright hissed.

"You've been doing your homework, haven't you? Look at the Court Record."

"The Court Record…?"

"Surely, you knew that from 2:15 to 4:00 the path between the studios was blocked?"

_It was?_

"Mrs. Monkey's head had fallen across the path!" Miles continued.

"Whoa!" Wright yelped. "You're right!"

"True, the break in the trailer meeting came right at the time of death… However! The path from there to the scene of the crime was blocked!" Miles hit his desk. "The fallen Mrs. Monkey head barred the way!"

Wright was hunched over in a cold sweat. Lana thought she heard Manella whisper "Pwnt."

"No counter-argument, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Then I'm afraid you lose this round." The judge wrote something down on his record: a penalty.

"I believe we have seen enough evidence," Miles said. He took a bow. "I would like to relieve Mr. Manella from the stand."

"It's over?" Lana heard someone in the gallery say.

"Looks like it," another person said. "If no one else had an opportunity to kill Hammer—"

The judge interrupted the chatting with his gavel.

"Very well," he said. "The court's opinion on this case is as follows: We have found that there were several other people in Studio 2 on the day of the murder. However, it is also clear that none of these people could have gone to Studio One. They therefore have no relation to this case. Furthermore, with regards to the photo of the Steel Samurai… Given the size of the costume, no one other than Mr. Powers could have worn it that day. All that is lacking is decisive evidence that he is the one who did it. If we had that, I'm afraid I would have to find Mr. Powers guilty."

"Your Honor," Miles called. "The prosecution is pleased to announce that we indeed have decisive evidence: a witness."

_That boy Gumshoe found, no doubt._

The judge silenced the gallery mere seconds after they had started talking.

"Who is this witness, Mr. Edgeworth?" the judge asked.

"My witness saw the very moment when the Steel Samurai skewered the victim!"

"Looks like Edgeworth's gonna have his revenge," someone in the gallery said.

"Yeah, it's over now."

The judge banged his gavel.

"Order!" he demanded. "I will have order!" He looked at Miles. "I see. The court will take a 10 minute recess, after which we will hear your witness. Court is adjourned for recess!" He whacked his gavel.

* * *

The judge banged his gavel right on time for the recess to end.

"Court is back in session for the trial of Mr. Will Powers," he said.

"The prosecution has a concern," Miles said. "As our witness is a grade schooler of tender years, and this is a murder case… We worry that the defense might cause unnecessary trauma with his cruel questioning!"

_That's Miles for you. Whenever he has an opportunity to look the hero, he uses it._

"However, we have no choice," he continued. "The prosecution calls Cody Hackins to the stand."

A boy garbed in all manner of Steel Samurai memorabilia walked up to the stand. He was so small that little more than his head was visible.

"Your Honor," Miles said. "Perhaps you could arrange a box for him to stand on?"

"Oh, r-right," the judge said. "Guard, please bring him a box. One of those donut crates should do."

_The ones his brother keeps in his chambers?_

A moment later, the guard came in with a crate that previously had donuts in it. The boy waited impatiently for the box to be placed at the stand and then stood on top of it.

"Will the witness state his name and grade in school," Miles requested.

The boy did not respond. Miles hit his desk.

"Witness!" he barked.

"What!?" the boy replied defiantly. "Just 'cause you're all grown-up don't mean you can push me around!"

"Mrph…" Miles hunched over his desk. He probably had a very negative opinion of his witness at that point.

"Cody?" Mia called. "Answer his question, okay?"

"H-hey, it's you!" the witness chirped. "The nice lady!"

_Nice lady? I can't say Mia's particularly nice in court…_

"I'm Cody Hackins," Cody said, now cooperative. "I'm in 2nd grade!" Wright was sweating again.

"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge said. "Please remember that you're speaking to a child. Try to be gentle."

"M-mrrrrph!" Miles grunted, annoyed. He regained his composure. "Witness! Er, I mean, Cody."

_Sometimes I wonder if Miles would make a suitable father… He'd do fine as a husband, but a father? No, he'd be fine as a father. After all, he was very kind to Ema when he met her. Then again, Ema's much nicer than this boy._

"You were present, er, you were at Global Studios on the day of the, er, incident?" Miles asked Cody, interrupting Lana's train of thought.

"You got a problem with that!?" Cody snapped.

_I don't think there's any need to be gentle with him…_

"Please tell us what you saw that day," Miles said, still calm.

"What, pops? You want me to tell you and gramps with the beard over there?"

"Just… Mr. Edgeworth will be fine," Miles said, now a tad frustrated.

"I prefer 'bearded gentleman' myself," the judge chimed in. "Incidentally, photographic equipment is strictly forbidden in this courtroom."

"M-mpht!" Miles blurted. "M-my apologies, Your Honor," he said, regaining his calm. "He said he wouldn't testify if he couldn't bring it… I'd like special permission, if that's possible."

"Wait, so you're saying you had to bargain terms with a kid…" Wright started, "and you LOST?"

_Why is he so surprised? Children like Cody do tend to be rather stubborn. It's not as if they fully understand the world of adults._

"Hey!" Cody bragged. "I just got this new camera! Don't really know how to use it all that good yet! But I bring it with me wherever I go!"

_Sounds like Miles's mention of how Franziska almost never goes anywhere without her whip…_

Mia said something to Wright. Wright opened up his files and wrote something down.

"Very well, Cody," the judge said. "Please testify to the court about what you saw the day of the incident."

"I wanted to see a Steel Samurai rehearsal, just once," Cody said, beginning his testimony. "I found a map on the Internet, and went to the studios that day. I went through the woods, off the path, so that old lady wouldn't catch me. I was going for the studio. I got kinda lost on the way, though. For about 30 minutes. When I came out by the studio, there was the Steel Samurai! It totally rocked! Right before my eyes, out came the bad guy! Of course, the Steel Samurai took him down! Pow! If I had my camera with me, that woulda been the time for a shot, I tell you. Anyway, I couldn't get into the studio, so I went home."

"Hmm… Very well. The defense may begin its cross-examination. And, be gentle. Remember you're talking to a child."

Wright was still sweating. He looked over the testimony.

"Objection!" he shouted. "Cody, what you just said seems, well, a little strange. Didn't you say before that you always bring your digital camera wherever you go? You were quite clear about that."

"Huh!?" Cody yelped.

"Cody, you shouldn't lie here. You understand that, right?"

"Mr. Wright!" the judge interrupted. "A word with you…"

Wright started sweating. He probably feared a penalty for piling on too much pressure.

"What is this 'digital' camera contraption you're talking about?" the judge asked.

"It's umm… a digital camera, Your Honor," Wright tried to explain. "It's kind of a new sort of camera."

_I'd hardly call it new. They've been around longer than Ema._

"I see," the judge said.

"Anyway, Cody… I can't believe you wouldn't bring your camera on a trip to the studios! You did bring it, didn't you?"

"Umm…" Cody was hunched over like Wright, but not sweating.

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "Mr. Wright! How cruel you are, to terrorize a poor child so!"

"I don't care if he's a child or a prosecuting attorney! No one should lie in court!"

_Now that's not very nice, Wright._

"What do you mean 'or a prosecuting attorney'!?"

"Well, Cody?"

"Wh-what!" Cody snapped. "Yeah, so I had my camera. So what!? You got a problem with that!?"

"Yeah, why is the camera important?" someone in the gallery muttered.

The judge banged his gavel.

"So, you did have a camera?" he asked. "And did you use this camera?"

"W-why would I use it?" Cody lied. It was obvious he was hiding something. Why? "I… I was too busy watching."

"Hmm… Very well. Please testify to the court about what you were so busy watching."

"Y-yeah, I had my camera with me. But I was glued to the action! I couldn't take my eyes off it! The Steel Samurai, he goes for the bad guy… wham! Then… then the bad guy stopped moving! He's so strong! The Steel Samurai rules!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Ah? Is that all? Well, that was brief. Mr. Wright, your cross-examination."

"So you were watching the Steel Samurai," Wright pressed. "Did you watch the whole fight?"

"Y-yeah, of course!" Cody stammered.

"You didn't turn away, not even once?"

"N… no!"

"Okay, then tell us exactly what happened."

"Y-yeah! I'm getting to that! The Steel Samurai, he goes for the bad guy… wham! Then… then the bad guy stopped moving!"

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "Why?"

"Huh? Whaddya mean, 'why'?"

"Why wasn't the bad guy moving?"

_Because he was dead, Wright._

"W-well 'cause the Steel Samurai brought him to justice!"

"And how exactly did he do that?"

"H-how did he do it? With a Samurai Kick! And a Samurai Punch! Samurai Chop! …Samurai Slap! S-something like that."

_What about the Samurai Spear, boy?_

"What!" Cody snapped. "Don't gimme that look, pops!"

"Cody."

"Wh-what!?"

"Something's bothering me. Before you said that you 'couldn't take your eyes off' the action."

"Y-yeah? So what?"

"Yet you missed the most important part!"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "What is the meaning of this? The witness has stated what he saw quite clearly…"

"Objection!" Wright countered. "You know as well as I do that he's being vague!" He slammed his desk. "Tell me, what kind of murderer uses a 'Samurai Slap'!?"

"M-mmph!"

"My point is this: Cody, you may have seen some of the Steel Samurai's fight…" He slammed his desk again. "But you missed the most important part: the killing blow!"

The judge silenced the gallery with three whacks of his gavel.

"Order! Order!" he shouted. "Mr. Wright! How could this be? Can you explain how he might have missed something so vital?"

"Um, well… er, that's the thing…" Wright had his hand behind his head and was grinning stupidly.

"Phoenix!" Mia called. She said something else to him.

"Mr. Wright, your answer!" the judge demanded. "We have ascertained that this young boy is a great fan of the Steel Samurai… Why wouldn't he watch the climax of the fight?"

"Your Honor, I have evidence," Wright replied.

"'Evidence'…?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Why did Cody look away from the fight?"

"Take that! Here's my proof!" Wright indicated the camera.

"What's that? The camera…?"

"The witness stated that he recently received this camera."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"He wasn't entirely familiar with its operation."

"I'm aware of that, too. Ah!"

"Correct! Why would Cody be looking somewhere else at the critical moment? Because he was looking at his camera!" Wright pounded on his desk. "He was trying to take a picture!"

"Hey!" Cody yelped.

"Bullseye!"

"W-what's your problem, pops! You got a thing for picking on little kids!?"

_This from a boy with a toy sword on his back…_

Mia said something to Wright. Wright said something in response.

"Cody?" he called. "There was only one reason why you would have looked away from the fight. And that was because you wanted to take a picture. But having just received your camera, you weren't used to using it yet! So, you missed the climax of the fight. Correct?"

Cody didn't respond. After a moment, he said "Yeah."

Mia said something to Wright. Wright said something back to her.

"Your Honor," he said. "The defense would like to request that Cody Hackins testify once more."

"V-very well," the judge replied. "Cody? Could you please tell us about your camera… And about why you didn't take a picture of the fight?"

"Umm…" Cody squeaked. "Yeah, you're right, pops. The Steel Samurai had just escaped from the clutches of the villain. So I held up my camera to take a picture! But the lens wouldn't open in time, so I missed it. Th-that's all that happened. Yup."

"Hmm… Anything strange in that testimony, Mr. Wright?"

"I'm not sure…" Wright replied, shaking his head. "But I'd like to proceed with the cross-examination anyway."

Wright re-read the copy of Cody's testimony.

"That's all?" he asked Cody.

"Y-yeah!" Cody stuttered. "I told you, I didn't take a picture!"

Wright grasped his chin, thinking.

_Cody's definitely hiding something._

"Cody!" Wright called. "Listen up, Cody Hackins. I know exactly what happened that day. You took a picture!"

"Hey!" Cody shouted after a pause. Wright smiled, confident he was on the right track. "H-how did you know!?"

"I see through all your lies Cody Hackins. It's one of my powers!"

"W-wow! Y-yeah… Yeah, I took a picture."

"Perhaps you can change your testimony to reflect this, Cody?"

"I took a few shots, but it was too late, so I erased 'em."

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "Cody!"

"Wh-wh-what!? Man, every time you say 'Cody' you follow it with something bad."

"I just wanted to thank you for giving me this the other day." Wright had a notebook of some sort in his hand.

"Huh? O-oh… right."

"What was it you told me then? Cody. Did you really get a picture of the Steel Samurai standing victorious over his foe? If you did, I find it hard to believe that you would just erase it!" He hit his desk. "Wouldn't you keep it for your album?"

"Ah!"

"Mr. Wright…" the judge cut in. "What exactly is this album?"

"It's called 'Path to Glory,'" Wright said. "It's a collection of pictures of the Steel Samurai, all taken by Cody Hackins. He claims it's a perfect collection of every battle the Steel Samurai has won!"

"I… I see."

"Don't you find this very odd, Your Honor? Among all his pictures of the Steel Samurai, none were taken that day!"

The gallery started muttering, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Order!" he demanded. "Mr. Wright. Have you an explanation? If the Steel Samurai had just defeated his adversary, I certainly would expect to see a picture of it in this album…"

"Exactly my point, Your Honor!" Wright paused. After a moment, he jerked back hard, then slumped into a cold sweat.

Mia said something to Wright. Wright replied. Mia nodded, then said "Yes." She continued with something else.

"Mr. Wright!" the judge ordered. "Please explain to the court what is going on here! Why was there no picture in the album from the day of the murder? Why would the boy have erased the photos he took?"

"I can think of only one reason, Your Honor," Wright said. He hit his desk. "The Steel Samurai didn't win! That's why Cody deleted those photos."

"You mean the Steel Samurai… lost?"

"Well, Cody? I'm right, aren't I? Tell the truth. The bad guy defeated the Steel Samurai!"

"N-n-n-no way!" Cody stammered. "No! I-it's impossible! Th-the Steel Samurai never loses! He never loses to anyone! Ever!"

_Judging by your reaction, I'm thinking he did lose this time. But where does that take us?_

"Your Honor…" Wright said. "The witness has revealed everything with his words. There was a reason why he lied and told us he didn't take a picture. The same reason he erased his precious photos! For Cody, it was inconceivable that the Steel Samurai could be defeated." He slammed his desk. "However, Cody witnessed the impossible! He saw the Steel Samurai lose! Yet to admit what he saw would destroy everything he believed in! That's why he lied and said the Steel Samurai won." He hit his desk again. "He couldn't handle the truth!"

"What? But then where's the Evil Magistrate in all of this?" someone in the gallery asked.

"Hammer's the victim, not Powers!"

The judge banged his gavel.

"O-Order!" he shouted. "I will have order! W-witness! I mean, Cody! Is this true!? W-what did you see? Tell the court what you saw!"

"I…… Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" Tears poured out of Cody's eyes.

"Cody…" Wright began. "That day, you saw the Steel Samurai lose a fight. Right?"

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Cody cried. "Okay okay! Y-you're right! Th-the Steel Samurai f-fell down… Th-then he didn't m-move… Waaaaaaaaah!"

"You're kidding me!" the person sitting next to Lana blurted. Before he could continue, the judge whacked his gavel.

"Order! Order! Order!"

Miles slammed his desk. "What kind of stunt are you trying to pull, Wright!?" he demanded. "The Steel Samurai was the murderer, not the victim!"

"Yet according to your witness's testimony, the Steel Samurai was the one who fell!"

"What the hell is going on!?" someone in the gallery cried. The judge hit his gavel.

"Mr. Wright!" the judge yelled. "What's going on?"

"Apparently, we have all made a serious error," Wright replied.

"An… error?" Miles asked. "What's this all about!?"

"If you understand what really happened, it's actually quite simple. At the end of the fight, the Steel Samurai fell to the ground, and lay still. In other words, the Steel Samurai was not the killer, he was the victim! Don't you see?" He slammed his desk. "Jack Hammer was the Steel Samurai!"

_It… is possible…_ Lana thought amidst the gallery's yammering._ He is the right size to wear that costume… But then who did he fight?_

The judge whacked his gavel.

"Order! Order! Order!" the judge shouted, getting a tad hoarse. "So, the Steel Samurai in this photograph… You're saying the man in his costume was the victim, Mr. Jack Hammer?"

"That's what I'm saying, Your Honor," Wright replied. "Jack Hammer was present at the action scene run-through that morning. Thus, he obviously knew about Will Powers's foot injury."

"B-but wait! Hadn't Mr. Hammer gone to Studio One already?"

"That's what everyone thought! But remember what Ms. Oldbag said in her testimony? Mr. Jack Hammer left the Employee Area after lunch. However, no one saw him going to Studio One. Nor was there a picture of him. He waited for Mr. Powers to take a nap in his dressing room. Then he snuck into the dressing room and stole the Steel Samurai costume."

"But why would the victim do such a thing?" the judge asked after a pause. All eyes were on Wright.

"I… don't know."

"I get it!" Cody said after a pause.

_I forgot the boy was even there…_

"I thought that the Steel Samurai was moving strange," Cody continued. "So it was a different person inside the suit! Pops!"

"Huh, me? What?"

"Actually, there was one piece of data I saved."

"Data?"

"Yeah, a photo on my digital camera!"

Wright slammed his desk. "W-what!?"

"Show us, quick!" Miles ordered.

"No way man, not if you're gonna look at me like that!"

"Now!" the judge barked.

"Here…" Cody said, on the verge of crying again. He took a photo out of his backpack. "This is it."

The judge looked at the photo. "Well, looking at this it's still a little hard to say. I'm afraid that it could be anyone in that costume. Your opinion, Mr. Wright?" The judge passed the photo to Wright.

"I agree, Your Honor," Wright said. "This isn't decisive evidence."

"I'm sorry, this doesn't look like it's the proof we need. I'll give it back."

"Wait, Phoenix!" Mia interrupted. Wright said something in response. Mia said something else.

"Wh-what!?" Wright exclaimed. "Y-Your Honor! May I see that photo once more please?"

"C-certainly," the judge said. "I don't see why not."

Mia said something more to Wright.

"Your Honor!" Wright shouted. "Look at this!"

"I see… a gate?" the judge replied, confused.

"Might I draw your attention to the number on that gate?"

"The number? Ah yes. Well, it's hard to see, but it looks like a '2.'"

"Clearly not a '1,' Your Honor, correct?"

"Aaaaaah!" Miles screamed.

_Studio… Two?_

"I believe Mr. Edgeworth sees what I'm getting at," Wright commented. Poor Miles was hunched over his desk.

"B-but… Th-that's impossible!"

"Hmm?" the judge chirped. "Eh? What's this all about? Please explain so that I might be shocked along with the rest of the court."

"I'll use the studio guidemap," Wright said. He took out the map. "The body was found here, in Studio One. However, what do we see in this photo taken at the time of the murder? It does NOT say '1' on that gate in the photo. Your Honor! Here is the true scene of the crime!" He slammed his desk. "Here, at Studio Two."

"I see! That would explain the '2' on the gate in the photo."

"Your Honor, I find it very significant that the murder took place in Studio Two! As you may recall, there is a trailer in Studio Two. Now, on that day, a meeting was held in that very trailer. There was a break in the meeting corresponding to the time of death. During that break, Mr. Sal Manella and Ms. Dee Vasquez were outside, eating steak." Wright slammed his desk. "They were at the scene of the crime!"

The judge stopped the gallery's chattering with his gavel.

"The path to the trailer was blocked!" Wright continued.

"So we have heard," the judge said.

"The path was blocked at 2:15…" Wright hit his desk again. "In other words, the victim went to Studio Two before that time!"

"Yes… yes, I suppose that would be the case."

"Remember Mr. Sal Manella's testimony? Allow me to remind the court: He said no one in the trailer was guilty because they could not have gone to Studio One. Yet, in actuality, the reverse was true! Only someone in the trailer could have committed this murder!" Wright hit his desk. "They were the only ones with access to the scene of the crime: Studio Two!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"O-order!" he demanded. "Order!"

"The defense makes the following claims:" He slammed on his desk. "The scene of the crime was Studio Two! The person that the security guard, Ms. Oldbag saw was the victim, Mr. Jack Hammer! Mr. Hammer, for some reason, stole a Steel Samurai costume. Then he went to Studio Two!"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "This is madness! Jack Hammer is the victim! The victim! Why would he steal a Steel Samurai costume!?" He pounded on his own desk. "Are you suggesting he did so to cover up the details of his own murder!?"

"W-well, no, of course not…" Wright replied, sweating.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled.

"Or do you have proof!?" Miles asked. "Give me proof that the victim, Jack Hammer, stole the costume!"

"I have proof!" Wright said. Miles hit his desk.

"Y-you do!?"

"You do, Mr. Wright?" the judge chimed in. Wright began sweating.

"Here's my proof that Jack Hammer stole the costume!" Wright said, his voice shaking a little. He held up a little bottle. "This is it."

"An empty… medicine bottle?" the judge asked.

"I found this on the table in the Employee Area. The same table where Mr. Hammer and Mr. Powers ate. The label reads 'sleeping pills.'"

"'Sleeping pills'…?"

"The defendant, Mr. Powers, spent that entire afternoon sleeping. He was drugged… by Mr. Hammer!"

_Gumshoe can be expecting a salary cut for overlooking this…_ Lana thought while the gallery chattered. The judge banged his gavel to restore order.

"Wait a moment…" the judge said. "That bottle does raise some suspicions, yes. But there is no proof that Mr. Hammer used it."

"Your Honor, I have an idea," Wright said.

"An… idea? Very well, let's hear it."

"I want to check this bottle for fingerprints! If my claim is true, Mr. Hammer's fingerprints should show up on this bottle!"

"Hmm…" Miles growled. He was either angry that he was losing to Wright again or angry that Gumshoe didn't find that bottle during the investigation.

"I suppose you're right," the judge said. "Very well. The court will take possession of the bottle." Wright tossed the bottle to the judge, who fumbled with it upon catching it. "This court will suspend proceedings on the current trial for today. Cody Hackins's testimony has revealed new possibilities in this case. In fact, things may have happened very differently than we previously thought. The Steel Samurai seen by Ms. Oldbag may have been the victim, Jack Hammer. the scene of the crime was not Studio One, but Studio Two. And those in the trailer did have time to commit murder. Mr. Wright?"

"Yes, Your Honor?" Wright asked.

"Your homework is to find the answer to the following question: Why would Mr. Hammer steal the Steel Samurai costume? Also, who killed him, and why? Find the answers for me by tomorrow."

Wright was sweating.

_That's quite a bit of homework._

"Mr. Edgworth," the judge called.

"Mm?" Miles replied.

"You will need to reconsider your stance in this case. Above all, you will need to reconsider your suspicion of Mr. Will Powers."

"As you say, Your Honor."

_He seems rather calm…_

"This trial will be extended until tomorrow. This is the last extension!" The gallery started up, silenced by the gavel. "Very well… Court is adjourned!"

* * *

Lana saw Miles sitting on the sofa in the Prosecution Lobby.

"You did well today, Mr. Edgeworth," she said to him, joining him on the sofa.

"It's not over yet," Miles replied.

"You seem rather calm for someone who could very well lose this case."

"If Powers is innocent, he's innocent."

"So do you intend to drop the charges?"

"Not until I know for certain. If Powers is guilty, I will prove it."

"I don't think you needed my support today."

Miles didn't say anything. Lana opened her mouth to say more.

"I thought about what you said to me," Miles finally said.

"What I said?"

"In my office. You said I could only hope the investigators arrest the right person. That's true, to some extent. But I'm starting to wonder if that's really all I can do. I can't stand by and do nothing as an innocent person is convicted. But what if I helped the defense acquit a criminal?"

"Mr. Edgeworth…"

"I need to answer this question for myself. I don't know what I'll do if Powers is innocent, but as long as I believe he may be guilty, I will fight to prove it."

Lana closed her eyes. She could not think of anything to say.

"Ms. Skye, could you please leave me? I need some time to think."

"Of course," Lana said, opening her eyes.

"I'd like you to be here for the last day of the trial, too."

"If I can be there, I will." She walked toward the door, then stopped. "I believe you'll make the right choice when the time comes."

Miles said nothing. Lana walked out.

Wright had proven the possibility of someone else killing Hammer. However, it was only a possibility. It was still possible that Powers was the killer, and as long as that possibility remained, Lana believed Miles would fight for a guilty verdict. He was changing, though; she could see it in him. The Mia Fey case had had an effect on him. He was going to truly be tested if Powers was innocent. Still, Lana believed in him. After how much he regretted trying to prove Maya and Wright guilty, he would never push for a guilty verdict if he believed the defendant was innocent.


	18. Part I, Chapter 17: What is Honor?

**Chapter 17—What is Honor?**

October 20, 2016

Miles had received word from Gumshoe that Dee Vasquez had attempted to destroy a piece of evidence Wright found and have Wright and Maya killed to keep them silent. He had almost no doubt in his mind: Vasquez had a role in the murder. She knew something that she was keeping from everyone. He thought back to the beginning of the case. Had Wright not pressed Oldbag, she would have kept the producer's connection to the crime a secret. Miles could have allowed a killer to go free. Were it not for Wright's persistence, an innocent person could have been convicted.

"This is it," a voice said. Miles turned to face the source: Lana. She had a look of concern on her face. The guards were not in the Prosecution Lobby and no one else was there but her and Miles. Lana seated herself on the sofa next Miles.

"Indeed it is," Miles replied. "Gumshoe told me what Vasquez tried to do. It's possible that her actions are unrelated to Hammer's death, but that is for the court to decide."

"You seem very calm for someone who's questioning his role in the case."

"There's nothing I can do to change the facts. If Powers is innocent…"

"There's only one truth, Miles. I think you're beginning to see that."

"I will not allow Powers to be acquitted as long as any possibility of his involvement in the murder exists."

Lana sighed.

"If that possibility disappears, though…" Miles continued, "…I'll do what I must. As a prosecutor, I will make sure the guilty are convicted. If Vasquez is the guilty party, I will make sure she is convicted."

"I told you yesterday: I believe you'll make the right choice when the time comes."

Lana was smiling. That alone spoke louder than her voice. She believed in him.

"You're so beautiful when you smile…"

Lana said nothing, but the smile faded after a moment.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked. "You're not worried about your family honor?"

"What is honor?" Miles replied. "I see nothing honorable in convicting innocent people. All I see is shame."

Lana placed her hand on his. "I'm very proud of you. I look forward to seeing how this trial plays out."

Miles brought that hand to his lips and kissed it. "I have you to thank for that," he said. "I know I can trust in your words."

Miles heard footsteps. In almost an instant, Lana's loving gaze changed into a cold stare. A guard opened the door as Lana took her hand from his.

"Mr. Edgeworth, it's time," the guard said.

Miles got up without a word and walked out of the lobby.

* * *

The judge called court into session with a single whack of his gavel.

"Court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Will Powers," he said.

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," Miles said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said.

"Today will be the final day of this trial," the judge said. "I hope both the prosecution and the defense will be able to present decisive evidence. Very well, Mr. Edgeworth. Your opening statement."

Miles took out the transcript of yesterday's trial.

"In yesterday's session, the defense presented us with a new theory for this case," he said. "He claims that the scene of the crime was, in fact, Studio Two." He put the transcript away. "Today, I will call on people present in the Studio Two trailer that day. From their testimonies, the truth will become clear."

"Hmm… very well!" the judge said.

The gallery started up for some reason. Miles could tell he was nervous about this case. He might have to help the defense.

_Calm down,_ he thought, his eyes closed. _Do what you must._

The judge banged his gavel, restoring order. "You may call your first witness, Mr. Edgeworth," he said.

_Here it is: the moment of truth._ Miles placed his hand on his desk.

"The prosecution calls Ms. Dee Vasquez to the stand," he said. "Ms. Dee Vasquez is a producer who was present in the Studio Two trailer that day."

Vasquez took the stand. A smoker. Disgusting.

"Will the witness state her name and occupation?" Miles asked.

"Dee Vasquez," she said after a pause. "I am a producer for Global Studios."

"On the day of the murder, you were in the trailer in Studio Two…"

"As everyone here knows, yes?"

Miles widened his eyes slightly.

"I dislike needless banter," the witness said. "If you must pontificate, do it when I'm not here."

"Mrrph!" Miles huffed.

"V-very well, Ms. Vasquez," the judge said. "Please give the court your testimony concerning the day of the murder."

"Nick!" Maya hissed to Wright. "I know she did it! Make her pay!"

"R-right!" Wright replied. Everything that happened in court felt so vivid, as though he could see and hear everything that happened.

_Prove it, Wright. Erase from my mind what little doubt remains._

"I entered the trailer, oh, a little before noon," Vasquez said. "The meeting began at 12:00 sharp. It ended at 4:00. There was to be a rehearsal afterwards, so we went to Studio One… I was fatigued, so I had Sal take me. At 2:30, we took a 15-minute break in the meeting. Sal and I ate t-bone steaks on the table in front of the trailer. We found Hammer's body later, when we all went to Studio One. That's all."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I have a question about one part of your testimony. You were 'fatigued' so you had Sal 'take' you…?"

"The van," Vasquez replied.

"Hmm?"

"There's a van at Studio Two. I had him take me in that. I thought it might be risky to walk, what with that monkey's head toppling over."

"I… I see! Very well. Mr. Wright, your cross-examination."

"This is the final battle, Nick!" Maya said. "Let's do it!"

Wright was handed the testimony to look over. He checked it a few times, then looked at his notes.

"Hah!" he guffawed. "As I thought!"

Vasquez said nothing.

"You claim you ate a t-bone steak!" Wright continued.

_And this is relevant… how?_

Wright slammed his desk. "But I say you did not!"

"W-what's this, now, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"Look at this," he said. Wright reached into his bag and took out a container. Inside the container was a plate.

"It's… a plate?"

"This plate was on the table in the employee room. As you can see, a large bone has been left behind."

"Mr. Wright," Miles said with a shrug and an amused smile. "Need I remind you it was a T-BONE STEAK!?"

"Exactly my point!" Wright said, nodding. "Remember, if you will… Ms. Vasquez and Mr. Manella ate at a table outside the trailer. Yet there were no bones left on the plates! The plates were bare!"

Vasquez did not respond, but the scowl on her face indicated that there was a good reason for the contradiction.

"Ms. Vasquez?" Wright called. He hit his desk. "Tell me, how can a person eat a t-bone steak… and not leave the bone?" He pointed accusingly at the witness. "I think I know how! You didn't eat any steak during that break! You took your steak and threw it somewhere… like that incinerator!"

Vasquez grimaced. She then returned to giving herself emphysema.

"I… I see!" the judge commented. "Then what was Ms. Vasquez doing during her break?"

"Isn't it obvious, Your Honor?" Wright replied.

"_She was meeting with the Steel Samurai!"_

Wright slammed his desk and then pointed at Vasquez. "She was meeting with the Steel Samurai!"

The gallery began chattering. The judge banged his gavel.

"Order!" he ordered. "A-are you saying…!?"

"Yes, Your Honor!" Wright finished. "As Ms. Vasquez left the trailer to eat her steak… She ran into the Steel Samurai! And then you did it." Wright slammed his desk. "You killed him with your own hands!"

Vasquez reacted but said nothing. The gallery started up, silenced by His Honor's gavel.

"M-Mr. Wright!" the judge exclaimed. "I-isn't that a little presumptuous!?"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. He slammed his desk. "What kind of stunt are you trying to pull, Wright!?" _If you're going to accuse Ms. Vasquez, show me proof that she's the killer!_

"Let him claim what he wants…" Vasquez said, calm. She turned to Wright, a taunting smile on her face. "You say I did it?"

"Yes," Wright replied.

"Fascinating! And here I was worrying that today would be as boring as all the rest." She paused to take a puff of thousands of chemicals. "Very well. Let us have a battle of wits, you and I."

_Confident, aren't you, Vasquez? If you're the killer, you'll be caught. I guarantee it._

"Good luck, Nick!" Maya cheered.

"Let's see…" Vasquez said. "What was that murder weapon again? Oh yes, the 'Samurai Spear.'"

"Yes…?" Wright replied.

"I am, as you can see, a woman of petite stature. How could I possibly use that heavy spear as a weapon?"

Wright shook his head. "I don't know," he said.

"Objection!" Miles yelled. He slammed his desk and started pointing at Wright. "You 'don't know'!? What kind of a lawyer are you!?"

"Quiet," Vasquez said. "I'm speaking."

"M-m-mmph!" Miles growled. _Who's the prosecutor here!?_

"You 'don't know'!?" Vasquez repeated. "What kind of a lawyer…"

"I don't know whether you could have fought with the Samurai Spear… However, that has no bearing on this case!"

Vasquez did not respond for a moment. "Meaning?" she finally asked.

"The Samurai Spear was not the murder weapon!"

"What!?" Vasquez snapped.

The gallery began yammering. The judge quieted them down.

"What is the meaning of this!?" the judge demanded. "The spear was found lying next to the victim's body!"

"I have proof, Your Honor," Wright said. "I can prove that the Samurai Spear was not used as the murder weapon!" He indicated the Samurai Spear. "Take that! I present my proof: the so-called 'murder weapon'!"

"B-but, that IS the murder weapon!" _Has the witness's smoke messed with your nervous system!?_

"Not so fast. Remember that this spear broke during the morning action scene run-through? But, someone fixed the spear. It was the security lady!"

_I'd hardly call that old hag a lady…_

"She fixed it with duct tape!" Wright continued. "Now tell me, how is it possible…" He paused to point at Vasquez. "for someone to stab a man who is wearing a thick costume with this!? Through the chest!"

The gallery filled the courtroom with noise until the judge hit his gavel.

"O-order!" he yelled. "Order!"

Miles slammed his desk, then pointed at Wright. "Mr. Wright!" he demanded. "What are you driving at!? Think about what you're—"

"Silence!" Vasquez interrupted. "I'm the one testifying here and I will be heard!"

"Mmmph…!" _I don't know if you're innocent or guilty, but I know I don't like you…_

"Are you quite sane?" Vasquez asked. "Are you even aware of what you're saying? If the Samurai Spear was not the Murder Weapon, then pray tell what was!? How was Hammer killed?"

"Well, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Can you tell us what weapon was used to kill Mr. Hammer?"

"Would I make a claim like that if I couldn't tell you what the weapon was?" Wright replied.

"I'm afraid your confidence can sometimes be unfounded, Mr. Wright… Very well, let's see this murder weapon, then."

"Take that!" Wright shouted, taking out a photograph. "Look at this photo."

"W-what is this? Why, that's Jack Hammer standing at the top of the stairs!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"O-order! Order! If I cannot have order this trial will be suspended! Mr. Wright! What is this all about!?"

"This photograph is from five years ago," Wright said. "There was an unfortunate accident at Global Studios. This is a photo of that very accident. Not a word of this was leaked to the outside. It was a close-kept secret at the studios."

"What does this have to do with the current case!?" Miles demanded.

"Mr. Edgeworth… You still can't see it?"

Miles looked harder at the photo.

"See the fallen man in this photo?" Wright asked. "See how the fencepost pierced him through the chest?"

"Wh…" Miles stuttered, jerking back and then slumping over his desk, "what!? Are you saying…!?"

"Yes. What happened five years ago…" He slammed his desk. "has happened again!"

Vasquez had a brief look of shock on her face. The gallery began chattering, silenced by the judge.

"Mr. Wright!" the judge shouted. "Continue!"

"It's 2:30 PM on the day of the murder!" Wright said, trying to recreate the image in the court's mind. "Ms. Dee Vasquez meets Jack Hammer outside the Studio Two trailer! Then she did it! She pushed Mr. Hammer off the stairs onto the fence! Just like Mr. Hammer had himself done five years ago! Though whether she did it on purpose or by accident, I cannot say."

Vasquez was smiling evilly.

"I-in other words…" Miles stammered, "th-the victim, Mr. Hammer… He died in the same way that he caused another man to die… five years ago!"

Wright nodded. "Precisely," he said. "Ironic, isn't it?"

"Hoh hoh," Vasquez laughed. "Very creative, Mr. Wright. I could use a man like you on my script writing staff."

"You deny that what I say is true?"

Vasquez paused. "Mr. Wright. Let's say, for the sake of argument, that Hammer died at the trailer as you say. Yet, the body was found at Studio One, was it not? And in the Evil Magistrate's costume, no less. Are you then claiming that I carried the body to Studio One… And returned to the trailer, all in the space of a 15 minute break? How could I have disposed of the body!?"

Wright said nothing, thinking about the possibility.

"The break in the meeting at the trailer lasted 15 minutes," Miles said, "from 2:30 to 2:45. Could Jack Hammer have been pushed off the stairs to his death, then carried to Studio One and placed inside his costume?" Miles crossed his arms. "There wasn't enough time!"

"Hmm… indeed," the judge said. "Well, Mr. Wright? How could she have dealt with the body?"

"You'd be surprised!" Wright replied. "I bet she could do it!" He placed his hand behind his head and grinned stupidly. He had no clue; it was obvious. "When people think their life depends on it, they can do amazing things!"

"Mr. Wright, this is not an episode of "That's Incredible."

Miles shook his head, amused by Wright's grasping.

"If you claim she did everything in 15 minutes…" he trailed off, letting Wright finish the sentence.

Wright started sweating. It was obvious what he was thinking.

"Correct!" Miles answered to Wright's thoughts. "Show me proof!"

Wright said nothing, still sweating. _No proof?_

Miles slammed his desk, annoyed at Wright's ineptitude. "Then I won't have you making unsubstantiated claims!" he barked.

Wright said nothing, but a slight hint of confusion in his eyes told all.

"Hah!" Miles scoffed. He did his "evil smile." "I need only look at the cold sweat running down your face to know what you're thinking!" He thought he heard a few people in the gallery laugh.

"Mr. Wright," the judge said. "Perhaps you'd like to reconsider your claim?"

There was no response.

"Well, Mr. Wright?" the judge continued. "How could she have dealt with the body?"

"15 minutes is kind of a short amount of time…" Wright admitted.

"You see?" Vasquez said. "Even I cannot do the impossible. Therefore, Mr. Wright. I didn't do it. Agreed?"

"Not agreed!"

_Prove it, Wright._

"What if she had another way to carry the body, other than with her own hands?" Wright asked.

"For instance?" Vasquez taunted.

"Actually, for that matter, there was no need for her to do the deed in 15 minutes!" Wright slammed his desk and pointed at Vasquez. "And there was a way for you to carry that body."

Vasquez grimaced. She then returned to her confident smile and looked to Wright. "I-interesting! Let's hear it then."

"Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Please show us how she carried the body."

Wright slammed on his desk again. "Ms. Vasquez," he said. "You carried the body to Studio One. And you used the studio van to do it!"

The gallery started up, silenced by His Honor's gavel.

"Recall your testimony…" Wright continued. "'There was to be a rehearsal afterwards, so we went to Studio One. I was fatigued, so I had Sal take me. There was a van there, right? I had Sal drive me.' You used the van to carry the body to Studio One! Then, before everyone else got there, you put the body into the Magistrate costume!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "Hold on, Wright! Don't forget, it was Sal Manella that drove the van!" Miles hit his desk, then pointed at Wright. "Are you suggesting that Mr. Manella was a conspirator?"

"Of course, Sal Manella has to have been a conspirator! The body had to be placed in the van, and put into the costume. There's no way Ms. Vasquez could have done that alone! Also, don't forget that they had to dispose of the Steel Samurai costume. They had to… because it was covered in Mr. Hammer's blood! They probably burned it in that small incinerator." Wright slammed his desk. "Well, Ms. Vasquez! Shall I continue?"

"No need," Vasquez said. "You're smarter than you look, Mr. Wright. Hmph." She smiled. "I lose. You win. It… was fun."

For a while, the court was silent.

_Well, Wright, you've done well. It is indeed possible that Ms. Vasquez is the killer._

"Umm…" Wright muttered, breaking the silence. "So… what happens next?"

Vasquez made a bit of a "huh?" sound.

"Don't '?' me!" Wright snapped, sweating. "Don't you have anything to say!?"

"What would you like me to say?" Vasquez replied.

"Huh? 'I lost'? Something like that!"

"I just said that."

Wright slammed his desk. "W-wait, so you mean… Dee Vasquez! So, it was you? You killed Jack Hammer!"

Again, the court was silent.

_She's too calm. There's more to solving this case than what we already have._

"Who can say?" Vasquez said.

"Huh?" Wright stammered.

"Are you sure I did? Mr. Wright… We just engaged in a battle of wits. And the result of that battle? You proved the possibility that I murdered hammer."

"R-right!"

"But… that is only a possibility. Proof is another thing altogether. You lack decisive proof, Mr. Wright."

"Wha… wha… wha… wha… WHAAAAAAAAAT!?"

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge quickly did what he did best.

"Order!" he demanded. "Mr. Edgeworth, your thoughts?"

"Umm… uhh… mmmph," Miles blurted. _What do I say? What she said makes sense, but she might be the killer!_ "O-of course, it's as the witness says!" Miles straightened up and crossed his arms. "Certainly, it does seem very likely she did it… but, uh, there's no proof!"

"Well?" Vasquez asked. "I came here as a witness today. If you've no more questions, I'll be leaving."

_No! I'm not going to risk another wrong verdict! How can we find out for sure if she's guilty!?_

Wright hit his desk, but said nothing.

"Yes, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"I was hoping I'd come up with a question while pounding on my desk," Wright said. "I didn't."

_Come on, think! What's left to investigate?_

"You have my sympathies," the judge said after a pause.

The gallery began talking, confused. The judge banged his gavel.

"As it seems there are no further questions…" he started, "I would like to end the cross-examination of the witness, Ms. Vasquez."

"Objection!" Miles shouted. _Think! Find something more!_

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth?" the judge asked.

"I was hoping to come up with a question while I was objecting, Your Honor… I didn't."

"I see… Very well."

_Another testimony! We need another!_

"Objection!" Miles repeated. "Your Honor! I request that the witness testify again!"

"You are the prosecutor, are you not?" Vasquez asked. "Why are you badgering me? I'm your witness!"

"I… I just want to hear your testimony again."

_I need to be sure! A person's life is at stake! I won't allow a guilty verdict if Powers is innocent!_

"Does this make any sense to you, Your Honor?" Vasquez asked. "I don't see that we have anything to gain by repeating the last several minutes."

"Mr. Edgeworth…" the judge started, "I, too, see little point in making Ms. Vasquez repeat herself. What exactly did you want her to testify about?"

"Mmmph!" Miles huffed. "Well, yes, um…" _Think! _"Indeed! Verily, I say… Ergo!" _Stop wasting your breath! Find an answer or don't! Wait… yes!_ Miles hit his desk. I want to hear about what happened… after they found the body!"

"After they found the body…" the judge repeated. "Very well. The witness will testify to the court concerning this matter."

"Hmph," Vasquez blurted.

"Nick!" Maya said. _I forgot she was even there… _"Why did Edgeworth…?"

"Who knows?" Wright replied. "He probably realized she did it, too."

_I just want to be sure, Wright. I don't want to send an innocent man to his death._

"But… but!" Maya stuttered. "Wasn't he the one that said he always gets a guilty verdict…? After all that…"

_Forget family honor… No one's perfect. The department, the detectives, myself… The honor I want now… is honesty. If there is anyone I need to trust, it is myself._

Vasquez took a few breaths of smoke, then began her testimony. "I was with Sal and Oldbag, the security lady, when we found the body. The assistant was there, too. Only Powers was absent. I immediately called the police. Then Powers showed up. The security lady, Oldbag, was quite agitated. Pointing at Powers, saying 'he did it!' I asked to be left out of the proceedings. I went back to the trailer to get my script and direction notes. Then I went home."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I see no issues raised by this testimony… Mr. Wright, your cross-examination."

"Okay, Nick, we're close, real close!" Maya said to Wright. "She may be acting tough now… But if you put her on the spot she's sure to falter! Find the key you need and twist the truth out of her, Nick!"

"Right!" Wright said. He looked at the testimony, reading over it carefully. "Mr. Powers was taking a nap, correct?" he asked.

"So he says," Vasquez replied.

"Did no one go to call him?"

"Remember…"

"Remember… what?"

"There was a dead body lying in front of us. Yet you expect me to be calm?"

_She was certainly calm enough when Wright accused her of murder…_

"Wait a second!" Wright exclaimed. "Wouldn't that be the other way around!?"

"The other way around?" Vasquez taunted.

"You discovered a dead body, and one person was missing, right? Wouldn't you normally go looking for the missing person!?"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I have to agree with the defense on this one. Well, Ms. Vasquez?"

"Hmph," Vasquez huffed. "Logically speaking, perhaps. But no one there was thinking very logically, I assure you. Also. Without his Steel Samurai costume, Powers doesn't really stand out. We often left him on the bus when shooting at location. No one noticed he was missing."

"Hmm… Well, I suppose that explains that. Very well, Ms. Vasquez. You may continue."

"I immediately called the police. Then Powers showed up. The security lady, Oldbag, was quite agitated. Pointing at Powers, saying 'he did it!' I asked to be left out of the proceedings. I went back to the trailer to get my script and direction notes."

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "The script and your direction notes?"

"Yes, they're quite valuable. It wouldn't do to have them stolen."

"No, I guess not." He paused. "Wait a second! I thought you came to Studio One for a rehearsal! Why didn't you bring your script and notes!?"

"Well, I was under the impression that we wouldn't be able to rehearse anything."

"Why?"

"There was a murder, after all! Who could think of rehearsing after that!"

_Wait… what? How could she know…?_

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Very well. Ms. Vasquez, please continue…"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. He slammed his desk. "Your Honor!! I have an objection to the witness's last statement! Think! Ms. Vasquez said she didn't bring the script because there wouldn't be a rehearsal. Don't you see what that means?" Miles slammed on his desk. "She would have had to know about the murder before going to Studio One!"

The gallery made more noise than a rock concert at the Del Mar Fairgrounds. The judge banged his gavel louder than the cannons in Tchaikovsky's _1812 Overture_.

"Order! Order!" he bellowed. "Mr. Edgeworth!"

Miles said nothing. _What's wrong, Your Honor? Is it a crime for a prosecutor to want justice?_

"What you have just said…" the judge continued, "is a reasonable observation. However, I find it hard to understand why the prosecution would make such a move! Or are you thinking of a career change to defense!?"

_Not a chance._ Miles took a bow. "I… appreciate the concern, Your Honor," he said. "I will stand by my statement, however, regardless of how the court sees my role here." He hit his desk. "Now, Ms. Vasquez… Do you have an explanation?"

"Hmph," Vasquez snorted. "So the prosecution is in cahoots with the defense? What kind of court is this? No matter. I think you misunderstood me. I had a perfectly good reason to believe there would be no rehearsal."

_Prove it._

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "The witness will change her testimony to reflect this reason."

"I knew that Hammer was injured and couldn't do any action scenes, so I left them behind," Vasquez said.

_Liar!_

"Objection!" Wright shouted, catching on. "You 'knew that Hammer was injured'…? Don't you think that's a little funny?" Wright slammed his desk. "I mean, it was the Steel Samurai who was injured! It was Will Powers!"

"Wh… what!?" Vasquez stammered. The gallery started up again. The judge banged his gavel.

"Mr. Wright!" the judge barked. "Explain yourself!"

"Yes, Mr. Hammer is dragging his leg in this photo. But that's because he was pretending to be Mr. Powers!"

"P-pretending…?" Vasquez stuttered.

"One person was injured in the run-through that morning. That person was Mr. Powers, not Mr. Hammer!" Wright slammed his desk again, then pointed accusingly at Vasquez. "Now, why did you think it was Mr. Hammer who was injured?"

"I-I already said it was Sal who told me! Th-that's right! He must have gotten it wrong."

_It was her… She's our killer…_

"I think not," Wright said. "Mr. Manella was at the run-through that morning. He would have known it was Mr. Powers who was injured. He saw it happen! Why would he tell you the wrong person?" He hit his desk. "Ms. Vasquez! Actually, you didn't hear anything from Mr. Manella. You saw Mr. Hammer limping with your own eyes!"

"Yes, but…" the judge said. "Wasn't it Mr. Powers who was injured…?"

"Yes, but remember! Mr. Hammer was dragging his leg, too! He was pretending to be Mr. Powers!"

"Aah!"

"And when was he doing this…?"

"Well…" Miles said. "It would have been after he put on the Steel Samurai costume… and went to Studio Two. Where he was murdered!"

"Exactly!" Wright replied. He pounded on his desk. There were probably two handprints on it by now. "Ms. Vasquez! You met him, didn't you? You saw the Steel Samurai limping! And Mr. Hammer was in that Steel Samurai suit! That's why you were confused!" He slammed his desk again. "That's why you thought it was Mr. Hammer who had been injured that morning!"

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge banged his gavel. It was losing its effectiveness.

"Order!" he demanded. "Order! I will have order!"

"Witness!" Miles called. He hit his desk. "Can you refute this claim?"

"Hrrmmmm…. hmph!" Vasquez huffed. She paused. "Very well! I have a question for you!"

_Still not ready to give in, eh?_

"Why in the world would I want Mr. Hammer dead?" Vasquez continued. "Yes, he'd fallen on hard times, but he was a star! I had nothing to gain from his death! Nothing!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Yes, you would need a motive. Why would she have killed the victim? If there is a reason, it is unclear to this court. Does the defense have anything to say on the matter? In other words, can you prove she had a motive?"

"Okay," Wright said. "I have proof, and I'll show it to you! I present to the court evidence as to Ms. Vasquez's motive in this murder." He took out the old photo again. "This is my proof!"

"This is… the photo from before?"

Wright pounded on his desk. "This photo reveals the motive in this murder!"

Vasquez was silent. She seemed to be enjoying this for some reason.

"I'm right, aren't I, Ms. Vasquez?" Wright continued.

"Hrrrrrrm… hmph!" she blurted.

"Five years ago, Mr. Hammer was at the height of his fame. With Dee Vasquez's help, a terrible accident was swept under the carpet… Ladies and gentlemen, the case currently up for trial… It began on that day, five years ago! Ironically enough, that accident precipitated Mr. Hammer's fall… His fall from stardom!"

"His guilt weighed him down, no doubt," Miles commented.

"However!" Wright continued. "You, Dee Vasquez, used Mr. Hammer. You made him work for you for petty change!"

"Hmph," Vasquez sighed.

"Bringing us to the present day…" Miles added, "and Mr. Hammer's last role as the Evil Magistrate!"

"Yes!" Wright agreed. "Undoubtedly, it was a constant source of shame for the ex-star…"

"Hmm…"

"One moment, Mr. Wright," the judge cut in. "We are talking about motive here… yet you have only talked about Mr. Hammer. It almost seems as if… As if it was Mr. Hammer who had killed Dee Vasquez, not the other way around! What motive would Ms. Vasquez have?"

"Y-yes, that's right," Vasquez said. "According to what you say… I would have had no reason to kill Hammer. He was a good source of income for me! And I never get rid of useful men. It's a policy of mine."

"Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Please explain Ms. Vasquez's motive for murder."

Wright shook his head. "She had no motive, Your Honor," he said.

"What's that now!?"

"It was Mr. Hammer who was out for blood! All Ms. Vasquez did was push him off the stairs… in self defense!"

"What's that now!?" Miles demanded.

Wright hit his desk. "It's simple! Mr. Hammer was intending to kill Ms. Vasquez!"

"Wha—!?" Miles doubled over his desk. "WHAT!?" _Self defense!?_

The gallery, just as shocked as Miles, could no longer contain their thoughts. The judge corrected the problem.

"Your Honor!" Wright shouted. "Jack Hammer drugged Mr. Powers with sleeping pills! Jack Hammer snuck into the dressing room and stole the Steel Samurai costume! Jack Hammer wore the costume to fool the security lady into thinking he was Powers! Then Jack Hammer made his way to the trailer! And for what purpose, you ask? To kill Dee Vasquez, who had so cruelly taken advantage of him all those years!"

Vasquez, no longer able to hold back, gripped her pipe in her left hand tightly. Eventually, it snapped.

"So, you did do it, didn't you?" Wright asked.

"Yes," Vasquez said after a pause. "I am guilty. It was me…" She was silent, as though she was remembering that day five years ago. It had no doubt taken a serious toll on her. She wanted to punish Hammer, so she blackmailed him. "Congratulations, Mr. Wright," she finally said. "I lose… again."

The gallery began talking, silenced by the judge's gavel.

Vasquez left the stand with the bailiff.

"Mr. Edgeworth…" the judge called. "Where's Dee Vasquez?"

"In the waiting lobby, Your Honor," Miles replied. "As calm and collected as ever…"

"I see…" the judge said with a nod. "Mr. Wright."

"Yes, Your Honor?" Wright replied.

"It appears you have brought about yet another miracle."

"I… thank you, Your Honor," Wright said, his hand behind his head.

"I think not, Your Honor," Miles commented. "Will Powers was innocent. That he should be found so is only natural… not a miracle."

The judge said nothing for a moment. He was most likely surprised by Miles's actions during the trial. "Yes," he said. "Yes, you're right. Very well. This court finds the defendant, Mr. Will Powers… not guilty."

The entire gallery was cheering. After a moment, the judge whacked his gavel.

"That is all," he said. "The court is adjourned!"

* * *

Miles decided to save the visit to the Prosecution Lobby for after speaking with Wright. They needed to talk. What about was a mystery. Despite the right verdict being given, Miles found himself still full of doubt. He had, in essence, forsaken his "family." Right or wrong, it was an action that would almost certainly haunt him.

"Congratulations, WP!" Maya exclaimed as Miles entered the Defendant Lobby.

"Oh?" Powers replied. "Oh! Heh heh. Thanks to you, I'll be able to don the Steel Samurai outfit once more! I can't wait to get back into that sweaty costume and…" He stopped, noticing the look on Maya's face. Maya's eyes were on Miles. "Is… something wrong?" Powers asked.

"N-no!" Maya stammered. "O-of course not… Aah! N-Nick! Edgeworth!"

Miles was glaring at Wright. It was thanks to him that these cursed feelings were plaguing him. Wright didn't say anything. _Do I have to start? Curses…_

"Say something, Wright," Miles said. "I'm not good at small talk."

"Huh?" Wright replied. "What?" He paused. "Umm… that was too bad, Edgeworth!"

"You don't waste any time gloating, do you?"

"No… I really want to thank you," Wright said. "Vasquez would have gotten away if you hadn't stepped in."

"Ah, uh, pleased to meet you," Powers said, a couple of tears on his cheeks. "I'm Powers." He sniffled.

"Ah, er, Edgeworth," Miles said, extending his hand. "I'm a big fan of your work, Mr. Powers."

Admittedly, Miles had only seen one episode of the Steel Samurai—specifically, when he visited Lana's condo and Ema was watching it. Powers was not Oscar material yet, but for a kids' show actor, he was something else.

"Wright," Miles said, glaring at his former friend. "I must say, I hadn't expected to meet you again after all these years."

"Meet 'again'…?" Maya asked.

"However," Miles continued. "In retrospect, it would have been better had we not met. Thanks to you, I am saddled with unnecessary… feelings."

"Unnecessary feelings?" Wright repeated.

"Yes. Unease… and uncertainty."

"Aren't those kind of necessary?"

"They only serve to get in my way. You listen to me, Phoenix Wright. Don't ever show your face in front of me again. That's what I came here to tell you."

Wright was silent. Taking that as a cue, Miles walked out.

In the Prosecution Lobby, Lana was waiting. No one else was there.

"Where's Vasquez?" Miles asked.

"I had the guards take her to the Detention Center," Lana replied. She paused, trying to look Miles in the eyes.

"I don't feel like talking to you about this, Ms. Skye."

"Well, I feel like talking to you about it," Lana replied. Miles glared at her. "Don't give me that look; I'm trying to make this easier for you."

_I never thought I'd actually want Ms. Skye instead of Lana…_

"I said I didn't feel like talking about this," Miles insisted. He started to leave, but he felt Lana's hand holding his own very tightly. He struggled to break his hand free, but was unable to.

"Tough," Lana said.

Miles sighed. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this, so he followed Lana to the sofa.

"Okay, you win," Miles said. "What's bothering you?"

"To be blunt, your reaction to this case. I'm very proud of what you did in court today, but you don't seem to think the same."

"Why should I be proud? Yes, I helped get the right verdict, but I'm not feeling any better about it."

"Why?"

"You tell me! I still feel as though I'm unfit to prosecute, as though I have no right to have a role in deciding a person's fate!"

"Perhaps it's your von Kar—"

"Don't be stupid, Lana. I have my honor, and it's with justice. The von Karma family has my thanks for raising me, but their idea of perfection is anything but perfect. They're just as unworthy of their titles as I—"

"Miles."

Miles stopped and glared into Lana's eyes. They didn't wander away.

"If you think you're unfit to prosecute, then quit," Lana said. Miles turned his head away, facing straight out. "But don't think you're the only person who has to worry about such things. There are plenty of American soldiers stuck in Afghanistan who are asking themselves, 'am I doing the right thing?' Soldiers, Miles. Even people famed for their courage and determination doubt themselves. And just as someone has to fight, someone has to prosecute. If that someone is not you, then you should leave the Prosecutor's Office before you lose your mind."

_Quit? That would be the same as admitting defeat!_

"So you're staying, are you?" Lana asked, noticing Miles's reaction. "Then get a hold of yourself and find an answer. As a prosecutor, what can you do to make sure the guilty are convicted and the innocent acquitted? If you don't have that answer, you'll always feel as though you're insulting the judicial system simply by standing in court. There's more to prosecuting than a guilty verdict. I believe you know that."

"Of course I know that!"

"You're a prosecutor, Miles. If the defendant is guilty, it's your job to prove it. If they are not, then do as you did today."

Miles said nothing. What was there to say to that?

"Starting from when you asked Vasquez to testify again," Lana started, "I was smiling on the inside. I felt like I was seeing a soldier throw down his weapons in the middle of an immoral battle. During that time, I had more respect for you than I ever have. I can't even begin to tell you how proud I am of what you did…" She paused, unable to think of how to continue for a moment. "I don't know what you think of yourself, but I would have a great deal of difficulty being prouder of you that I already am… I believe you're on the right track, and I believe you will follow it to the end."

"I don't know if I'll follow that track to the end, but I know that I will continue prosecuting," Miles said. "Your words make sense, Lana. I can't say I feel fit to prosecute, but I have a better idea of what I have to do." He looked to Lana and saw her smiling again. "Thank you," he said. "I'll do what I can to find the answer I need."

Lana let go of Miles's hand and allowed him to get up and leave.


	19. Part I, Chapter 18: Flawed Perfection

**Chapter 18—Flawed Perfection**

December 25, 2016 and December 26, 2016

To say the day was torture would be an understatement. Lana had to endure Ema's tears in the morning when she refused to hug her younger sister for the presents or even say more than an emotionless "thank you." Then, before she could even finish breakfast, she was called to the Prosecutor's Office to prepare evidence for a murder trial—Miles's trial.

There was no way he was guilty. Miles despised crime with a passion; committing a crime himself would be something he would never be able to handle. And now, as Chief Prosecutor, she had to prepare the case that would pour sodium thiopental into his veins. She completely exhausted a box of tissues before being able to calm down. For the first time since the SL-9 Incident, she had been completely unable to consciously control her emotions.

A knock on the door to her office sounded.

"This had better be important," Lana said.

"It is," a harsh voice on the other side said.

"Then come in."

A man looking well into his sixties entered the room. Everything from his slicked-back grey hair to the curve of his eyebrows to the way he gripped his cane made Lana feel as though she was looking at the Devil himself—if he even existed. He walked very precisely, his cane always tapping the exact same amount of time after each footfall. Lana almost had a heart attack when his piercing glare looked her way.

"Who are you supposed to be?" the man asked.

"Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye," Lana replied, managing to hide the uneasy feeling in her mind. Fear was something she could conceal; Gant's threats had taught her how to do so. Even so, fear engulfed her mind. After all, Manfred von Karma was a man to be feared.

"Svetlana Skye…" He smiled—a sickening smile that came off as saying that its owner drew no end of pleasure from seeing others suffer at his hands. "My condolences. It appears you won't be able to marry Mr. Edgeworth after all."

"Mr. von Karma," Lana said, squinting slightly. "Did you just come here to taunt me? I would never call something as trivial as insults important."

"Heh. I expected Jacobson to be here. How long have you been standing in his place?"

"Almost two years. Did you have any reason for coming here other than to exchange pleasantries?"

"Pleasantries? With you? Peh! Why would I waste my breath on such needless pursuits? I came here to tell you that you need not do anything for this case. My presence alone seals your beloved's fate. All you need do is watch as the needle pierces his skin."

"It is my job to oversee the case. Personal concerns do not change that. Unless I get orders from someone with a higher rank than myself, you have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do."

"Hah. Your type has never minded ordering around those with higher ranks."

"Please leave my office, Mr. von Karma; I have nothing more to discuss with you."

Von Karma scoffed. "Typical," he said. "When you can't win an argument, you try—"

"I said leave."

"Excuse me? You're ordering me out of this office?"

Lana pressed a button on her intercom. "Security? Please remove Mr. von Karma from my office."

"Hah! Fine!" von Karma hissed. "I'll leave!"

Von Karma walked out of the office.

"Never mind," Lana said into the intercom again.

Manfred von Karma, a man who had once been penalized for tampering with evidence to get a guilty verdict. His record was flawless with the exception of that one penalty. He always got a guilty verdict. Every case he ever prosecuted was perfectly planned out ahead of time. He was obsessed with the concept of perfection, not just in court, but at home, too. Miles had compared the man to a computer; he showed no sign of an actual personality. He covered any flaw in his plans, eliminated anything that threatened him, and punished any who interfered.

The phone rang.

"Chief Prosecutor's Office," Lana said, picking up the receiver.

"Ms. Skye?" Gant's voice called.

"What is it?"

"I just got a call from Mr. von Karma, and he made a very good point."

"About…?"

"You're off the Edgeworth case. Since you're in love with the defendant, there's concern that you'll interfere with the evidence."

"I see. And you think I'll do that?"

"The possibility has occurred to me. Anyway, you're not in a position to argue with me, Ms. Skye. Besides, even if you did make Mr. Edgeworth look innocent, Mr. von Karma would still win. He always gets a guilty verdict, after all."

"Is this your way of torturing me, Chief?"

"My way? No, no, not at all, Ms. Skye. Whether I stepped in or not, you'd still suffer. Anyway, you heard me. You can go back home. There's nothing else we need you to do. Mr. von Karma can easily handle everything on his own."

Gant hung up. Lana closed her eyes. No tears came, but she could feel them trying to escape.

_I'll be there. I'll be there when you sit in the defendant's chair. Though I will be powerless, I'll be there for you._

* * *

Lana sat in the gallery, as usual. She made sure she was in a place where Miles could see her. More people entered the courtroom as the time drew closer to 10:00. By the time the judge arrived, the gallery was so crowded that Lana was being squeezed by people to both sides of her. Miles's trial was one that had gained nationwide attention.

Judge Clous banged his gavel to silence the noise at precisely 10:00 AM.

"Court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Miles Edgeworth," he said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said.

Von Karma said nothing. He simply had his arms crossed, as though he had better things to do than stand in court.

"Erm, Mr. von Karma?" the judge called. "Is the prosecution ready?"

"Fool…" von Karma said after a moment. He uncrossed his arms and glared at the judge. "You seriously think that I would stand here were I not completely prepared?"

"R-right, my apologies!"

Wright was already sweating.

_Grow a spine, Wright! If you're defending Miles, then do it confidently! He's innocent. You just have to prove it!_

"Very well, your opening statement, please," the judge said. Von Karma waited until the courtroom was completely silent.

"Decisive evidence…" he said. "A decisive witness… What else could possibly be required?"

"Ah… er, nothing of course. That should be fine. The prosecution may call its first witness."

Maya was slumped over slightly, clearly annoyed by von Karma. She said something to Wright. Wright said something in response.

"I call the detective in charge of this case, Detective Dick Gumshoe," von Karma said.

Gumshoe walked up to the stand, dragging his feet.

_Poor Gumshoe… It's obvious he doesn't want to do this…_

"Describe the incident," von Karma ordered. "Now!"

"Y-yessir!" Gumshoe stuttered. "Er, please take a look at the map." Gumshoe reached into his coat and unfolded a map of Gourd Lake. "The murder happened late Christmas Eve, around midnight. There was one boat in the very middle of the lake. There were two men on the boat. Now, there happened to be a woman camping here on the edge of the lake." Gumshoe pointed to a clearing that was set aside for picnics.

_If I recall correctly, camping's not allowed in that spot. I hope she can afford the fine…_

"At 12:10 AM," Gumshoe continued, "she heard two pistol shots. Then the boat started to move. It went towards the boat rental shop."

"Hmm," von Karma growled. "Testify to the court about your arrest. Now!"

"W-w-wait!" the judge cut in. "Mr. von Karma…"

"Yes?"

"Actually, I'm the one that's supposed to be handling these proceedings…"

Von Karma shook his head and wagged his finger at the judge, as though scolding a child. "Wrong," he said, crossing his arms. "There is only one thing you need to do here. You will slam down your gavel and say the word 'guilty.' That is your role!"

"Y-yes, of course. You're quite right."

_No he's not!!_

"A man called into the station around 30 minutes after midnight," Gumshoe said, beginning his testimony. "We headed to the scene of the crime as fast as we could. That's where we found Mr. Edgeworth. Now, I didn't suspect him of anything at all. But… the next morning, a body was found in the lake. So we had to arrest Mr. Edgeworth."

"Hmm… I see," the judge said. "Very well…"

"Begin your cross-examination, attorney," von Karma spat. "Now!"

"You received a call from a 'man'?" Wright asked.

"Er… yup," Gumshoe replied.

"But you said there was a woman camping there? She was the one who heard the two gunshots, right?"

"Objection!" von Karma bellowed. "That woman and the 'man' who called in the report are two different people, obviously!"

"Different people?"

"There were two witnesses!" Wright gritted his teeth and hunched over, sweating. "Their testimonies were quite similar however," von Karma continued. "Today I've summoned the woman who was camping. What happened next, Detective?"

"We headed to the scene of the crime as fast as we could," Gumshoe said.

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "How long was it between receiving the report and your arrival at the lake?"

"Er, well… I'd say it was about three minutes."

"That's pretty fast!"

"Our motto for the month is 'get there quick.'"

"Objection!" von Karma shouted. "Detective! You will refrain from casually revealing department secrets!"

_That's no department secret!_

"Y-yessir!" Gumshoe whimpered. "Sorry, sir!"

"Do that, and you'll be able to look forward to your next salary review," von Karma said.

_Any more salary cuts and he'll be grocery shopping at a 99-cent store!_

Gumshoe rubbed the back of his head, then looked down, sad. "So much to look forward to, these days…"

"This is no time for daydreaming! Continue!"

"Y-yessir! That's where we found Mr. Edgeworth."

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "What was Mr. Edgeworth like when you saw him then?"

"Well… From what I saw, he looked pretty relaxed. Not like a murderer at all, really."

"Objection!" von Karma barked. "Detective! The court requires the facts, NOT your opinion! How many years have you been on the force!?" The snap of his fingers echoed through the courtroom. "Facts only, Detective! Hard, cold, objective facts!"

"Y-y-yessir! Now, I didn't suspect him of anything at all."

"Hold it!" Wright yelled again. "Why didn't you think he was suspicious?"

"You should know! We have a deep, trusting relationship with the prosecutors."

"Objection!" von Karma yelled. "Detective! The court isn't interested in your musings! 'Deep'? 'Trusting'? Poppycock!" He wagged his finger at the detective. "I've never heard so many flippant comments from an active detective on the force!"

"Mmph!"

"Continue! Now!"

"But… the next morning, a body was found in the lake."

"Hold it!" Wright cut in. "Did you find any clues on the body?"

"A single bullet was recovered from the body. He was shot through the heart… fatally."

"Judge!" von Karma interrupted. "Here's the bullet…" Von Karma took out a bullet and handed it to the bailiff, who passed it to the judge. "It didn't strike bone, so its shape is well preserved."

"Very well," the judge said. "The court accepts this bullet into evidence."

"So we had to arrest Mr. Edgeworth," Gumshoe said after a glare from von Karma.

"W-why is that?" Wright asked.

"Well, we found the murder weapon in the boat."

"The murder weapon…?"

"A pistol."

"Detective Gumshoe…" the judge said. "That is a vital piece of information. Please revise your testimony."

"Right! S-sorry, Your Honor. The murder weapon we found in the boat was decisive evidence."

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "What about the pistol made it 'decisive evidence'?"

"Tsk tsk tsk…" von Karma chuckled.

_So that's where Miles got his unique laugh…_

"There were fingerprints on the pistol found in the boat," Gumshoe said. "They were clear prints from Mr. Edgeworth's right hand."

"Wh-what!?" Wright yelped.

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Order! Order!" the judge barked. "So Mr. Edgeworth's fingerprints were found on the murder weapon!?"

"Y-yes, Your Honor," Gumshoe whimpered.

"Judge!" von Karma called, holding a pistol. "This is the weapon in question."

"A-accepted into evidence," the judge said.

"Members of the court… We now have the pistol used in the murder, and the bullet found in the body!" Von Karma snapped his fingers. "Detective!"

"Y-y-yessir!"

"Was the bullet found in the body fired from this pistol?"

"Yes. The ballistic markings on the bullet match the pistol."

_No! It can't be!_

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled.

"Hey, Nick!" Maya said to Wright. Lana was so close to the defense bench that she could hear the conversation quite well. "What does he mean, 'ballistic markings'?"

"Shocking!" von Karma spat. "To imagine someone here does not know something as basic as ballistic markings!"

"N-Nick! He's glaring at me!"

"Tsk… very well, I'll explain. Actually, Judge! You do it."

"Eh?" the judge chirped. "M-me?" He paused. "Erm, ahem. Ballistic markings are like the 'fingerprints' of a gun. The barrel leaves distinctive marks on each bullet it fires. You can examine these 'ballistic fingerprints' to see which gun fired the shot. It's quite accurate."

"Indeed. This leads to one, inevitable conclusion: the bullet found in the victim's heart… was, without a doubt, fired from this pistol." Von Karma snapped his fingers again. "This pistol which, as you may recall, was covered with the defendant's own fingerprints!"

The gallery was muttering again until the judge banged his gavel.

"O-order! Order!"

"Well, Judge?" von Karma asked.

"I'd say it's almost decisive, yes. Honestly, I could declare a verdict at this point."

_No! Miles couldn't have done it! He'd never—_

"However…" the judge continued. Von Karma wagged his finger at the judge again.

"You wish to hear the witness speak, no doubt," he said. "Very well. I am somewhat fatigued, and so I will take a brief break. I will call my witness after the recess. Which will last ten minutes. Judge!"

"Y-yes?"

"What are you doing? A ten minute recess! Now!"

"B-but, wait, I…"

Von Karma snapped his fingers. "Just bang your flimsy gavel and get on with it, man!"

"Y-yes!" The judge whacked his gavel. "Ahem. This court will take a ten minute recess."

_This is ridiculous…_

* * *

After ten minutes, the judge called court back into session with a whack of his gavel.

"Court is back in session," he said. "Mr. von Karma, call your witness."

"Yes," von Karma replied. "Will Ms. Lotta Hart take the stand?"

A young woman with an afro walked to the stand. She had a somewhat excited smile on her face.

"Lotta Hart, you are a research student at a university?" von Karma asked, his tone of voice making it clear that he didn't care.

"That I am," Hart replied. She had a thick Southern accent.

"Good. Begin by telling us what you saw the night of the incident. And don't add anything trivial or subjective. Understand?"

"Y'all need to learn some manners," the witness said through gritted teeth. Von Karma simply wagged his finger at her.

"UNDERSTAND?" he repeated.

"Y-yeah, I understand, I understand!"

"Er… very well," the judge said. "Your testimony, please."

"It was Christmas Eve, just after midnight, I reckon," Hart said. "I was in my car. I heard this 'bang' come up from the lake. When I looked out the window, I saw two gents in a boat. Then there was another 'bang'… There wasn't nary a thing on the lake but that boat."

"Enough," von Karma interrupted.

"Huh?"

"Judge! She happened to take a photo of the incident!" He took out a photograph. "This is that photo. Accept it as evidence." The judge was handed the photograph.

"W-well!" he exclaimed. "This is a surprise! This looks like… the very moment of the murder!"

_We're dealing with Manfred von Karma, Your Honor_, Lana thought while the gallery murmured._ How is seemingly decisive evidence a surprise?_

The judge banged his gavel. "O-Order! I will remove you from the court if I do not have order immediately!"

"As the witness testified," von Karma said, "she looked at the lake when she heard the shot. There were no other boats on that lake! So, the man in the boat with the victim must have been the one who shot him…" He snapped his fingers. "Yes. It was the defendant, Miles Edgeworth!!"

The gallery started up again. _No! He'd never shoot someone! He's INNOCENT!!_ The judge broke up the chatter with his gavel.

"Order!" he demanded. The gallery was still noisy. "Order! Order…! I will have order!" The gallery was finally silent.

"Well, Judge?" von Karma sneered after it was quiet. The judge nodded.

"The evidence is… decisive."

_No it isn't! There's still room for doubt!_

"I have very little doubt about this case," the judge continued. He banged his gavel.

_No!!_

"Very well, this court finds the defendant…"

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "W-wait! Your Honor! I haven't cross-examined the witness yet!"

_If you do exist, God, thank you._

"A cross-examination?" von Karma scoffed. He wagged his finger at Wright. "We have photographic proof! What question can there possibly be!? This photo is worth a thousand words… and they all read 'guilty'! You lose. Or… Do you claim to have found a contradiction in her testimony!?"

_There has to be one! Miles would never kill anyone!_

"Very well," von Karma said. "If you have to, you may cross-examine the witness. You will only flounder and ask meaningless questions! You will fail to find anything!" He snapped his fingers. "And then, I will have you held in contempt of court!"

_Don't let him scare you, Wright!_

Maya and Wright exchanged whispers. They were too quiet for Lana to hear.

_Come on… Mia wouldn't give up! Take him on… for Miles… for me…_

"I understand…" Wright said. "I will cross-examine the witness!"

"Tsk tsk tsk…" von Karma chuckled. "Very well!"

"I pray for your sake this isn't a waste of time," the judge said.

Wright looked over the testimony. "'Just after midnight,' you say? In other words, it was no longer Christmas Eve… but Christmas Day!"

"Huh?" Hart asked. "Uh, yeah, well, yes."

"Objection!" von Karma shouted. "I know you want to find contradictions, but really!"

"Mmmph," Wright huffed.

"I hope your next contradiction is a little more relevant to the trial," the judge said. "Witness, continue your testimony."

"I was in my car," Hart said.

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "Why were you camping there, anyway?"

"I'm a research student at my university. I was taking pictures to use in my research."

"Ms. Hart. Could you be more specific about your 'research'?"

"Objection!" von Karma cut in. "What does the witness's motive in camping by the lake have to do with this case!? The answer is 'nothing'! I object to this line of questioning! Objection sustained!"

"W-w-wait, now, I'm the one who says that!" the judge said.

"Well, then say it already!"

"Objection sustained."

_Von Karma, will you stop at nothing to make Miles look like a killer!?_

"I heard this 'bang' come up from the lake," Hart continued.

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "So, you weren't looking at the lake at that time?"

"Nope. I looked after I heard that noise."

"Objection!" von Karma yelled. "She's said that already! I asked you to find 'contradictions'! Not leisurely chat with the witness!"

"When I looked out the window, I saw two gents in a boat," Hart said, resuming her testimony.

"Hold it!" Wright barked. He slammed his desk. "Could you clearly see the two men?"

"Just look at the picture! Clear enough for you?"

_You can't tell that's Miles in that picture!_

"Wait a second! I wasn't asking you about the photo!" Wright banged on his desk and pointed at Hart. "I was asking if YOU saw the two men!"

"Uh, yeah, well, of course…"

"Objection!" von Karma bellowed. "The witness has testified that she saw them! There's also a photo! You'd best look elsewhere for your precious contradictions!"

_That part was way too vague… Von Karma's trying to hide something there… Find it, Wright…_

"Then there was another 'bang'…" Hart continued.

"Hold it!" Wright cut in. "Were you watching the very moment the shot rang out?"

"Well, yeah, sure…"

"Objection!" von Karma barked. "You're asking meaningless questions! Meaningless!" He snapped his fingers. "'Contradictions,' Mr. Wright. Not meaningless babble!"

_How can you face yourself when you do this, von Karma? Don't you care that you're prosecuting your own student?_

"There wasn't nary a thing on the lake but that boat," Hart said.

"Hold it!" Wright shouted, hitting his desk. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah, sure as a country gal can be!"

"How come you're so sure?"

"Well, heck, I scanned the whole lake."

Wright grasped his chin, thinking for a moment.

_There's something fishy here. Why would she look around to see if there was anything else on the lake?_

"Ms. Hart…" Wright said, "you—"

"Objection!" von Karma yelled. He wagged his finger at Miles's defense. "Mr. Wright! The witness has answered the question in full."

"Mmph!"

"No need for further questions! Objection sustained!"

"U-uh," the judge cut in, "that's what I'm…"

"Sustained!"

"Y-yes, of course." The judge banged his gavel.

_No! Wright, stop cowering every time that beast objects!_

"Enough!" the judge said. "I think we've heard all we need to hear, Mr. Wright. It seems you are unable to find a contradiction in the testimony worth noting."

"B-but, Your Honor!" Wright begged. Von Karma snapped his fingers.

"You keep your promise!" he demanded.

"Mr. Wright," the judge said. "I am afraid that I will have to penalize any further outbursts… By holding you in contempt of court!"

"And if that happens, you'll have to leave the courtroom immediately! Understood…?"

"Uh… uh huh," Wright whimpered.

_Show some spine, Wright! Hart's testimony is too vague!_

"Nick…!" Maya called. "Lotta's testimony is fishy, Nick! Real fishy!"

Wright mumbled something back.

The judge banged his gavel.

"I believe we've covered the evidence sufficiently to make a decision," he said.

"Then, pass your judgment!" von Karma ordered. The judge nodded.

_No… No! This is wrong!_

"Very well," the judge said. "Mr. Miles Edgeworth, please take the stand."

"HOLD IT!" a voice yelled.

The court was silent as everyone tried to figure out who had said that.

_It wasn't me… so… who said…?_

"Wh-who was that!?" the judge asked.

"It… was me," Maya said.

"I-is something wrong? D-do you need to use the facilities?"

"No, I do not! Lotta Hart! Your testimony stinks! It's unclear whether you were actually looking at the lake! It's highly doubtful that you actually saw Mr. Edgeworth! Tell us the truth! This is a matter of life or death!"

Hart gave a slight lurch.

_Listen to the girl, Wright! She's absolutely right!_

"Lotta!" Maya called. "Did you really clearly see Mr. Edgeworth that night!? Did you see him fire that pistol!?"

The judge banged his gavel.

"You will stand down!" he roared. "The court does not acknowledge the defense's outburst!"

"Answer me, Lotta!" Maya begged.

"What's the big idea, treating me like some kind of criminal!?" Hart exploded. "I saw him! I swear it! I saw Edgeworth…"

"Objection!" von Karma barked. "Enough! Judge… Declare the defense in contempt of court!"

"Y-yes… yes, of course," the judge replied. "I'm sorry, but you WERE warned. Guard! Escort Mr. Wright out of the courtroom! He is in contempt of court, and must leave."

_NO!_

"Wait!" Maya yelled. "I-I was the one who made the outburst, Your Honor! Nick is innocent!"

Von Karma shook his head and wagged his finger at Mia's little sister.

"Hah!" he scoffed. "What's the difference? All that remains is for the guilty verdict to be declared! Isn't that right, Mr. Phoenix Wright!?"

_Don't give up, Wright! Miles is innocent!_

Wright slammed on his desk.

"Wrong!" he replied.

_Yes!_

"What!?" von Karma shouted.

"Did you hear what Ms. Hart just said? She said she clearly saw Mr. Edgeworth!" Wright hit his desk and pointed at von Karma. "That was not in the testimony! That changes her testimony, and I have a right to cross-examine her again!"

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge banged his gavel.

_Yes… Please, Wright… save Miles…_

"Order! Order! Order! Order! Order! Order!" he yelled.

"You're in contempt of court!" von Karma roared. "It's too late for wild claims! Judge! Sustain my objection!"

The judge was silent, thinking.

_No! Wright's right!_

"I'm sorry, Mr. von Karma, but I cannot," he said.

Lana closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.

"What!?" von Karma demanded.

"Ms. Lotta Hart has made a new testimony," the judge said. "The defense does have a right to cross-examine her again."

"B-but he is in contempt of court!"

"No, I am!" Maya insisted. "If you're going to arrest someone, arrest me!"

_Maya… thank you so much…_

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. He nodded. "Very well. Maya Fey! You will leave the courtroom immediately."

"Nick!" Maya said to Wright. "I did what I could… You have to do the rest! Good luck!"

"M-Maya…!" Wright almost cried. The judge banged his gavel.

"Peh!" von Karma hissed. "I care not for this melodrama! Listen well, Mr. Wright! I do not tolerate badgering of my witnesses!"

"Mr. Wright!" the judge ordered. "Begin your cross-examination!"

"I saw it clear as day," Hart said. "The man on the boat was Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Objection!" Wright shouted. The sound of his voice echoed through the courtroom. Everything was silent. "Got you. Got you, Ms. Hart! Finally!"

"Wh-what!? You got what?"

Wright took out the photo. "Look at this photograph."

"The photo I took…?"

"The very same. There's something I want you to see in this photo… it's quite clearly visible. The fog, Ms. Hart."

"So… so?"

"This picture was taken with professional, high quality film, correct? Yet even it could not capture the faces of the men on the boat!" Wright pounded his desk. "Yet you claim you saw Mr. Edgeworth! How!?"

"Whut!? Wha—!!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

_My heart almost stopped…_

"Mr. Wright has a point!" he said.

"Objection!" von Karma shouted. "That's why I told her not to say that in her testimony! Please!"

_Tampering with testimonies… The Bar Association will hear about this, von Karma!_

"Yet, now she has said it, Mr. von Karma," Wright said. He then pointed at Hart to address her. "How could you possibly see Mr. Edgeworth!? Explain yourself!"

"Ms. Hart," the judge said.

"What!" Hart snapped.

"Could you see the defendant that night?"

"O-of course! I said I could and I meant I could!"

"Then, please testify as to the circumstances of your sighting."

_Finally… Okay, Wright, keep it up! It's not over yet!_

"Yer right," Hart said. "It was a cold night and the fog was thick as grits. So, once I was finished setting up my camera, I got back in the car. Still, I brought my binoculars with me. When I heard that noise out on the lake, I looked with my binoculars. See? No problem!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "You used binoculars? Very well. You may begin your cross-examination, Mr. Wright."

Wright read over the testimony. "Hold it! 'Binoculars'?"

"Yeah, binoculars," Hart said.

"Yesterday, you mentioned that you were out looking for shooting stars, correct?"

"Well… yeah."

_Then why did she have a photo of the lake instead of the sky?_

Wright hit his desk. "Wouldn't you need a telescope, not binoculars, for that?" Hart grimaced. "I've got doubts about your camera, too! Was that really to take pictures of meteor showers?"

"Objection!" von Karma barked. "The camera is irrelevant to this case!"

"You can't say that for certain!"

"Hmm…" the judge cut in. "Mr. Wright. Is the camera really relevant to this case? If you believe it is, you may continue with this line of questioning."

"But know this!" von Karma added. "If you find nothing with this, there will be consequences!"

"Well, Mr. Wright? Do you wish to press further about the camera?"

Wright slammed on his desk. "The camera is of utmost importance, Your Honor. It is, perhaps, the key to this entire case! Therefore, I will continue my line of questioning!"

The judge banged his gavel. "Very well! Ms. Hart! You will testify to the court about the camera!"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya," Hart said. "The camera was set up to take pictures of a meteor shower."

"Objection!" Wright shouted. He smiled confidently. "You were photographing shooting stars? That's a lie!"

"S-says who!?"

Wright hit his desk. "I saw the camera you set up yesterday. It was pointed directly at the lake! You have to point a camera upwards to take photos of the stars, Ms. Hart!"

"Ooof!"

The gallery began yammering. The judge whacked his gavel.

"Mr. Wright!" he called. "What are you driving at?"

"The witness was not at the lake to photograph shooting starts, Your Honor!" Wright said.

"W-well then, what exactly was she photographing?"

"Your Honor! Take a look at this…" Wright pounded on his desk. "Ms. Hart." He took out a newspaper article. "This is what you were trying to photograph!"

"What's this? A newspaper article? 'Gourdy'…? Ah, the sighting at Gourd Lake…"

"Well, Ms. Hart?"

"I… I never heard of no lake monster!" Hart stammered. "You got proof or something? Let's see you prove that I was down at the lake trying to photograph this 'Gourdy.'"

"I have it! Proof!"

"Hmm… Intriguing!" the judge said. "Very well, let's see it. And… no joking around this time, please. Here is proof that the witness was trying to photograph Gourdy, the lake monster!"

Wright hit his desk. "The proof is in this article about Gourdy the lake monster! According to this article… When Gourdy breaks through the water, it makes a loud noise! Which is why you set up your camera with that microphone! You had set it to respond to loud noises! And that's how you got this picture when the pistol fired!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel and two cries of "Order!"

"I see…" the judge commented. "I, too, thought is was a little strange."

_Liar…_

"Well, Ms. Hart?" Wright asked. He slammed his desk. "You were camping there to try and take a photo of Gourdy, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Hart said after a pause. She smiled. "Not bad. Are all you lawyers that smart? So, smart boy, I was down there trying to photograph Gourdy, you got me. So what?"

"Huh…?"

"That don't change what I saw, does it?"

"Exactly!" von Karma added. "What you just used several precious minutes of our time to prove… is nothing more than that the witness is an idiot who thinks monsters exist!"

"H-hey!"

"But, as she so succinctly said, so what!? It changes nothing!"

_It must change something, or else von Karma wouldn't be going to all the trouble of covering it up._

"Ms. Hart," the judge said. "Why did you hide the fact that you were searching for Gourdy from the court? Please revise your testimony."

"Right," Hart said after a pause. "Fine, I'll testify. It won't change nothing, though." Hart waited for the court to be silent. "Actually, I'm not a research student at a university. I'm an investigative photographer. Imagine what a scoop it'd be if I got a picture of that monster! That's why I was camping out by the lake. But, that's all I was hiding. When I heard the 'bang' I looked right straight out at that lake. There wasn't much else to look at, so I just watched that boat the whole time. Then I saw a flash, near one of the men's hands, and I heard another gunshot. I was looking right at that boat, the whole time, cross my heart and hope to fry."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Well, Mr. Wright. You may cross-examine the witness."

"Objection!" von Karma yelled. "The witness's testimony is unchanged from before! Whether she is a research student or a photographer has no bearing on this case!" He snapped his fingers. "There is no need to waste more of our time with another pointless cross-examination!"

"Er… hmm."

"Objection!" Wright shouted, banging on his desk. "I claim the defense's right to cross-examine the witness, Your Honor!"

"Very well. You may begin the cross-examination. You seem sure of yourself, you must have something in mind."

"Hah!" von Karma guffawed. "That would be a first!"

"You understand that this is your last chance at a cross-examination, Mr. Wright? If there is no problem with the testimony this time, we will let the witness leave. I will announce my verdict at that time, Mr. Wright. Understood?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said with a nod. He was handed the testimony. He took a look at each line carefully.

_Come on, Wright…_

"Ms. Hart!" he called. "Were you REALLY looking at that boat!?"

"W-what's with you!?" Hart snapped. "Course I was looking at it! It was the only thing out there! Any normal person'd be looking at it!"

"I agree, any normal person would." He hit his desk and pointed at Hart. "But you are far from normal!"

"Wh-what!? Y'all wanna step over here and say that!?"

"You were camping at the lake to take a picture of Gourdy!" He banged on his desk. "Think about it—what would you do if you heard a loud noise? You'd be scanning the lake for any sign of Gourdy, that's what! You wouldn't give the boat a second thought!"

"Aah!"

The gallery started up.

_This is too close…_

"Order!" the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "Continue, Mr. Wright!"

"You testified that you were watching the boat through binoculars!" Wright accused. "However, you wouldn't need binoculars to watch that boat! You needed them to search for Gourdy… and that's what you were doing!"

Hart grimaced, then crossed her arms, thinking. Wright slammed his desk.

"Well!?" he demanded.

"Hmph… Well, now that y'all mention it… I did sort of take my binoculars and kind of scan the lake a bit… I mean, Gourdy might be out there, n' all…"

"M-Ms. Hart!" the judge barked, shocked. "a-are you saying that you were NOT watching the boat, then?"

"S-sorry, y'all," she said after a moment, her hand in her hair. "I wasn't fibbing, really. I was, just… I thought y'know, I could be witness to a murder n' all! I kinda got excited. I was sure I was watching that boat… till now."

The judge was speechless for a moment. "This… this is totally uncalled for—"

"B-but hey! You got the photograph! You got proof!"

"Hmm… Still, we can't see who is shooting who in this."

"Right! Right! That's why I took this photo n'…"

"Objection!" von Karma interrupted, snapping his fingers. "Witness… that's enough. You've had a long day. Shut your pie-hole."

"Sh-shut my what!?" Hart hissed.

_What was she going to say? It must be something bad for von Karma, or else he wouldn't object… Wright! Figure it out!_

Wright slammed his desk. "Ms. Hart!" he called. "Look at this photograph. You enlarged this photograph, did you not?"

"Y-yeah! I did!" Hart chirped.

"Why has that enlargement not been presented to the court!?"

"Objection!" von Karma cut in. "B-because it does not exist!"

_Liar! Your stuttering tells all!_

"What're y'all talking about!?" Hart exploded. "You were the one who told me not to show it in court in the first place! You old fool!"

The gallery was in an uproar.

_Von Karma, this is beyond low! How can you call yourself a prosecutor!?_

The judge banged his gavel, restoring order. "What's the meaning of this, Mr. von Karma!" he yelled.

"Er… erm…" von Karma mumbled.

_You'll pay for this, von Karma! Mark my words, you'll regret concealing evidence!_

"Ms. Hart!" Wright shouted, pointing at her. He hit his desk. "Show the photo to the court! Show us the enlargement!"

"Objection!" von Karma roared. "The prosecution objects to the submission of this evidence!"

"Objection… denied," the judge said. "The witness will show the enlargement to the court."

"Here it is," Hart said. She took a photo out. It showed two men, their faces concealed by the fog, one firing a gun in his left hand.

"Hmm," the judge muttered. "We still cannot see who is firing in this. It could be the defendant… or maybe it's not. Regardless, I'll accept this as evidence."

Von Karma snapped his fingers. "Happy now, Mr. Wright?" he taunted.

"Hmm…" Wright growled.

_Wait! Miles's fingerprints… They were on his right hand!_

"You asked for the enlargement, you got the enlargement." He wagged his finger at Wright. "And little good it has done any of us! That's why I requested she not show it!"

_Liar! That photo contradicts the murder weapon and you knew it!_

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I suppose this means that the cross-examination…"

"Is over!" von Karma finished. "Obviously!"

The judge banged his gavel. "Then, I would like to close the cross-examination of Ms. Lotta Hart."

_No!_

"And none too soon. That was a flagrant waste of my time."

"Mr. von Karma, do you have anything to add?"

"I stated everything I needed to when this trial began. Decisive evidence. A decisive witness. What else could possibly be required?"

"Nothing, of course. Then, I believe it is time for me to declare my verdict."

_Wright, stop him! STOP HIM!!_

Wright banged on his desk. "Your Honor!" he yelled, his voice shaking. "There is something decidedly strange with this enlargement!"

"W-what might that be?"

The gallery started up, silenced by His Honor's gavel.

"Mr. Wright…" the judge said. "You will show the court what you mean! What about this photo is 'strange'?"

Lana felt a bead of sweat roll down her neck. _Come on, Wright… It's the shooter's hand!_

"Here, Your Honor!" Wright shouted, pointing at the shooter's hand.

_Yes! YES!!_

"The shooter…?" the judge asked, puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand. What about the shooter is strange?"

"Look at the hand holding the pistol, Your Honor!"

"The hand…?"

"That hand directly contradicts another piece of evidence!"

"This man's left hand does what…!?"

"Let me show you. I'll show you the evidence that left hand contradicts!" He pointed at the gun. "Take that! The evidence is clear. The man in this photograph is holding that pistol in his left hand. However! The prints on the murder weapon were from Edgeworth's 'right hand'!" Wright banged on his desk as though he was trying to crush it under his weight. "Ergo! The man shooting the pistol in this photograph… Is not Mr. Edgeworth!!"

The gallery's chatter filled the courtroom. The judge banged his gavel repeatedly until everyone was finally quiet.

"Now that everyone in the courtroom has quieted down…" the judge said. "I would like to reconvene this court of law! Mr. Wright."

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright replied.

"You have given us definitive proof today. We now know that it was not Mr. Edgeworth who fired the pistol that night. However… This leaves us with a rather large problem. If Mr. Edgeworth didn't do it, then who shot our victim?"

"Precisely!" von Karma said. "As we have seen, there were no other people on the lake that night!" He snapped his fingers. "Who but the defendant could have shot the victim!?"

"There is only one explanation remaining!" Wright said. He hit his desk. "The man who shot the victim was none other than… the victim himself!!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel and two cries of "Order!"

"So…" the judge started, "you are saying that the victim committed suicide?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright replied. "I can think of no other explanation."

"Hmm… Indeed that does seem to be the only remaining option."

"Objection!" von Karma yelled. "I'm so very, very sorry, Mr. Wright. But suicide is out of the question."

"Wh-what!?" Wright stammered.

"An examination of the victim's wound reveals the distance at which he was shot."

"The… distance?"

"The victim was clearly shot from further than a meter away!"

"A meter! Th-that's three feet!"

_Technically, a little more…_

"There is no way it could have been suicide!"

The gallery started up again. The judge did what he did best.

"Order! Order!" he bellowed. "Mr. von Karma! Are you sure of the accuracy of your data!?"

"Of course! I had already considered the possibility of suicide, you see."

"Hmm… I see." The judge banged his gavel. "Very well, allow me to state my opinion. Considering the situation, the shooter had to be the defendant, Mr. Edgeworth."

_NO!!_

"However!" the judge continued. "The prints on the gum reveal that the shooter was not Mr. Edgeworth. This is a conundrum. Therefore, I would like to suspend proceedings for this trial for the day."

_Phew…_

"The court orders the defense and the prosecution to further investigate this matter. Understood?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said.

Von Karma was silent.

"That is all," the judge said. "The court is adjourned."

He banged his gavel. The gallery began to file out. The stench of sweat—Lana's sweat—entered her nose. She saw Miles leave the courtroom with Wright. Miles turned his head to look at her. Lana gave him a reassuring smile. His lips trembled just the slightest bit.

_You'll survive this, Miles… …We'll survive this._


	20. Part I, Chapter 19: Memories

**Chapter 19—Memories**

December 27, 2016

"Court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Miles Edgeworth," Judge Clous said with a whack of his gavel.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said.

Von Karma was silent.

"Very well, apparently the prosecution is also ready," the judge said. "Mr. von Karma your opening statement."

Von Karma was still silent.

"Er… very well, no opening statements so…"

"Objection!" von Karma yelled. "Not so fast, Judge! I was taking a meaningful pause before speaking!"

"R-right, of course."

"A prediction!" Von Karma snapped his fingers. "Today's trial will end three minutes from now!"

The gallery was in an uproar.

_I'll survive… I'll be acquitted…_

The judge banged his gavel. "Order… order!" he yelled. "Mr. von Karma! What is the meaning of your statement just now!?"

"Objection!" von Karma barked. "Bah! Must you question everything! It will be over in three minutes! We have no time to waste! I'll call my witness now!"

"R-right…"

"I call my witness… my decisive witness to the stand!"

A man in his fifties took the stand.

"Witness… state your profession," von Karma ordered.

The man was asleep, a bubble near his nose. A moment later, the bubble popped and the witness woke up and started rocking from side to side.

"I, er, am the proprietor of the restaurant the 'Wet Noodle' at Gourd Lake," the man said. Von Karma snapped his fingers and glared at his witness. "And I, er, also rent boats."

"The night of the incident, you were in the boat rental shop, correct?" von Karma asked.

"Er… ayup, yup I was."

"Please testify."

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "Wait a minute! The witness hasn't stated his name yet!"

"Objection!" von Karma roared. "Because I did not ask him, Mr. Wright! Bah! I have predicted this trial will end in three minutes!" He shook his head and wagged his finger. "Stop asking trivial questions and cooperate!"

_Trivial!? The witness's name is far from trivial! What if he's got a connection to Hammond!?_

"The witness will state his name," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. The man was asleep again. A moment later, he woke up.

"Mmph!" the witness mumbled. "Well, er… I'm not really sure, ayup."

"What do you mean?"

"My, er, memory…"

"Your Honor…" von Karma cut in. "The witness does not remember anything beyond the last several years… Ergo, he cannot recall his own name."

"Hmm… he can't recall, you say?" the judge aksed.

"Yes, but the incident in question took place three days ago. He can testify."

"Very well. Let's hear his testimony then, shall we. Witness?"

The witness began swaying back and forth. "It was the night of the 24th, just after midnight, ayup. I was in the restaurant… where I er… rent boats, as usual. Then I heard a 'bang!' Ayup. When I looked out the window, I saw a boat just a' floating on the lake. Then I heard another 'bang.' Just about then the boat comes back to shore, and a man walks by my window."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Very well. I'd like to begin the cross-examination…"

"Objection!" von Karma interrupted. "There is nothing to question in my witness's testimony! Ergo, no need for cross-examination! Besides, there are only ten seconds left before our three minutes are up!" Von Karma snapped his fingers. "Judge! Your verdict, now!"

"Er… yes… M-Mr. Wright…?"

Wright slammed his desk. "What are you saying!? Of course I'll cross-examine the witness!"

"Hmm… Very well, you may begin."

"Raaaaaaaaaaaargh!" von Karma screamed.

"E-excuse me? Mr. von Karma?"

"Three minutes just passed."

"I see. Well then, let's just take our time. You may cross-examine the witness."

Wright was handed the testimony. "'Just after midnight,' you say?" he asked.

"Ayup, just around then," the witness replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure, ayup."

"When I talked to you yesterday, you were rather vague about the time… I'm surprised you seem so sure about it today."

The witness fell asleep.

_This is a waste of time, Wright. Press something more relevant!_

"Objection!" von Karma shouted. "I asked him, and he remembered. Isn't that right!?"

The witness woke up and mumbled something. He noticed von Karma's glare. "D-don't glare at me like that…!" he begged. "I, er… I remembered it clearly, I did. Ayup."

"You see? Continue!"

"I was in the restaurant… where I er… rent boats, as usual."

"Hold it!" Wright yelled. "Is there anyone who can verify that?"

"Well, I guess Polly could."

Wright banged on his desk. "Th-that's not good enough for a court of law!"

"Mr. Wright…" the judge started, "exactly what's not good enough?"

"Ah, uh, Your Honor, this 'Polly' is a parrot."

"A… parrot?"

_He's using a parrot to corroborate his alibi!?_

"Don't be so hard on the girl, Keithy-boy!" the witness said.

"Keith…?"

"Objection!" von Karma interrupted. "The prosecution concedes that we cannot prove the witness was in the shop. Witness… please continue."

_How can they let someone like this testify!? Did von Karma bribe the judge!?_

"Then I heard a 'bang!'" the witness said. "Ayup. When I looked out the window, I saw a boat just a' floating on the lake. Then I heard another 'bang.' Just about then the boat comes back to shore, and a man walks by my window."

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "'By your window'?"

"Ayup, by my window. Right outside the window of my little shack."

"And, could you see the man's face?"

"Well, the fog was pretty darn thick, but he was right there in front of me. I saw him."

"This is a rather important detail!" the judge commented. "Please add it to your testimony."

The witness nodded off. Von Karma chuckled evilly.

_What have you done with this man's testimony, von Karma!?_

"That man was the defendant…" the witness said, "he was saying 'I can't believe he's dead.'"

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "A-are you sure!?"

The witness was asleep. Wright slammed his desk.

"D-Dad!" he shouted.

The witness awakened. "Dead certain, Keith!" he yelled, shaking his fist. "He said 'I can't believe he's dead' as he was walking by, too."

_No! No!_

The gallery was in an uproar until the judge banged his gavel. Miles felt sweat pouring down his neck.

"Witness!" von Karma called. "Are you sure that the person you saw was Miles Edgeworth!?"

"It was him!" the witness cried. "That Edgeworth boy!" The man fainted, still shaking his fist as he went down.

_I didn't kill anyone!_

"This… sounds like decisive evidence indeed," the judge said. "I see no room for doubt."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" von Karma chuckled.

_I… I feel faint…_

Miles felt his vision fading.

"Nadikh!" a voice called. "I dolth lie dow eh thig zar kohn teer! Everun nun tuh korr troom isklering gat oss!"

"Objection!" Wright cried. It was no use figuring out what was going on. It was all gibberish to Miles's ears.

"Objection!" von Karma shouted. He gibbered something in response.

_No… I'm innocent…_

The conversation between Wright and von Karma continued. Miles heard von Karma snap his fingers and continue speaking. He realized he had closed his eyes.

"Objection!" Wright yelled again.

Miles heard a number of bells ringing in his ears amidst the talking. What were they? They were all off-key, but they sounded like they were trying to make music.

"Objection!" von Karma yelled. The voices continued. Images flashed through Miles's mind.

...

"_Father, someday, I'll be a defense attorney, too! I'll be even better at it than you are!"_

"_Ha ha ha… Miles, I don't care what you become, just as long as it's an honest job that you enjoy doing."_

...

"_It appears this is good-bye. When I return, I'll be a full-fledged prosecutor."_

"_Just you wait, Miles Edgeworth! I'll become a prosecutor, too! I'll be perfect! I'll be more worthy of the von Karma name than you can even dream of being!"_

"_I look forward to seeing that day, Franziska. Ouch!"_

"_No pleasantries! We're rivals now!"_

...

"_I would like to marry you. Will you grant me that pleasure?"_

"_Oh… Miles… I-I… Yes… I will. I'll marry you…"_

"_Lana… My love… Thank you…"_

"_I love you, Miles…"_

...

"…guilty. The accused will surrender to the court immediately, to be held pending trial at a higher court within a month from today's date. That is all. The court is adjourned!"

_It's… it's over… I'm going to die…_

"W-w-waaaaaaait!"

"Wh-who was that just now?"

"Me!!"

_That voice… Lana? No… It's not Lana…_

"Huh? Waaaaahhh! L-Larry!"

Miles opened his eyes.

_What…? Larry…?_

"Wh-what are you doing here!?" the judge demanded.

"Listen!" Larry screeched. "Y-you gotta listen to me! I… I was… I was there, in the park, the night of the murder! I… I wasn't sure about it until just yesterday. B-but today I remembered it!"

"Remembered what?"

"The gunshot! I heard it too!"

The gallery filled the courtroom with noise. The judge banged his gavel.

"O-order!" he yelled.

"Objection!" von Karma shouted, snapping his fingers. "What is the meaning of this!? The verdict has been decided! I call for adjournment!"

"One moment, Mr. von Karma. So, you say you heard a gunshot?"

"Yeah, I did!" Larry barked. "A gunshot! That night! I was sitting here in the audience, listening to the testimony… Then I realized, something he said was different from what I remember! A-anyhow, I can't just sit here and let you call Edgey a murderer! It's… It's just not right! I'll testify! Lemme testify!"

The gallery started up again.

_Larry… If you don't blow it, I owe you big…_

The judge banged his gavel.

"Order!" he yelled. "Order!" The gallery quieted down enough. "Well, this is the first time something has happened like this in my court. I'm not quite sure how to proceed…"

"Judge!" von Karma roared. "You've already given your decision!" He snapped his fingers. "The trial is over!"

"Nick!" Maya called. "This is it! Larry's given us one final chance at this!"

Wright was sweating profusely.

_Take the chance, Wright! I've already been declared guilty!_

"Mr. Edgeworth was just declared guilty, Nick!" Maya cried. "It doesn't get any worse!"

_Listen to the girl!_

"You're right!" Wright admitted. "Okay!" He hit his desk. "Your Honor! If there is another witness, it is our duty to hear him speak! Right here! Right now!"

"A waste of time!" von Karma spat. "The verdict cannot be overturned!"

_Yes it can!_

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. After a moment, he banged his gavel. "Allow me to speak my opinion. In all court proceedings, it is our duty to prevent an inaccurate verdict. In order to make sure no mistake has been made, every witness should be heard!"

"Wh-what is this!?" von Karma hissed. The judge whacked his gavel.

"I withdraw my previous verdict of 'guilty'!"

The gallery began chattering. The judge calmed them down.

"Mr. von Karma!" he called. "I order you to call this new witness to testify. Now!"

"Whaaaat!"

"The court will adjourn for a five minute recess," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "After that, we will hear this new witness." He banged his gavel again. "Court is adjourned!"

* * *

Miles followed Wright into the Defendant Lobby. After a moment, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

"Whew…" Wright sighed. "That was too close. Sorry to keep you on the edge of your seat like that, Edgeworth."

"Hmph," Miles huffed. "I've seen worse." The look on Wright's face told Miles that his lie had been caught.

"I just wonder what Larry plans to say in there," Wright continued.

_This just might be our chance… Von Karma's had only perfectly planned cases. That imbecile caught him completely off-guard. But all that's happened… And that photo Wright showed me… What if this is all connected to my father's death? What if this is all some plan to get me to confess?_

"Hey, Edgeworth."

_Who was that? Oh!_

"Huh? You say something, Wright?" Miles asked.

"Yeah, a lot of things," Wright replied. "You seem out of it. What's wrong?"

"It… it's nothing," Miles lied.

"Hmm?"

"Umm… Mr. Edgeworth?" Maya cut in. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"What's that?" Miles asked.

"Why are your fingerprints on the murder weapon?"

"Oh." The scene returned to Miles's mind. "When he fell into the lake, I went into a daze. I couldn't understand what had happened. I couldn't think straight. Then I saw the pistol lying on the floor of the boat in front of me. I picked it up without thinking. I didn't have a reason, really."

_Or did I? What if I did it because… Because it felt so familiar?_

"I see…" Maya trailed off.

"Wright…" Miles said.

"Yeah?" Wright asked.

"This might be our chance."

"Our chance?"

"Von Karma has only ever run perfect trials."

"Perfect trials…?"

"Perfectly prepared witnesses, perfectly complete evidence. That's the secret to his success." He looked Wright in the eyes, now quite serious. "This is the first time he's ever had to deal with something unexpected! He has let someone he hasn't even talked to testify before the court! And that someone… is Larry!"

"What are you getting at?" Wright asked.

"It's likely his testimony will be full of holes, Wright."

"That's right, Nick!" Maya chimed in. "No ten minute trial this time! We'll milk this one for all it's worth!"

"Hey, it was fifteen minutes!" Wright corrected. "Fifteen!"

_It felt much longer to me…_

* * *

The judge called court back into session with a whack of his gavel. Miles scanned the gallery and saw Lana in the same spot she had been in yesterday. The redness on her face suggested she had cried recently.

_Lana… Please don't torture yourself like this…_

"Court is now back in session," the judge said. "Witness… Please testify to the court about everything that you saw on the night of December 24th."

"Right…" Larry said, "leave it to me!"

_I wouldn't if anyone more reliable were available…_

"That night," Larry started, "I was out in a boat on the lake. I was looking for something, and I, er, found it. So I quietly slipped the boat back in at the rental shop dock. Then, just as I was thinking about going home, I heard this 'bang'! I looked out over the lake, but I didn't notice the boat. So after I heard that single gunshot I went home."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "That was an unusually vague testimony, even for this court. In any matter, Mr. Wright, you may begin your cross-examination."

"Yes, Your Honor…" Wright said.

"What's wrong, Nick?" Maya asked.

"It's Larry! I have no idea what he's going to say if I press him. I'm a little scared."

"Hmm… Well, we've come this far. There's no way to go but forward, Nick!"

_She's right. Besides, the contradiction in that testimony is obvious enough for even Gumshoe or the judge to notice._

Wright was given the testimony. He looked over it and took out a white envelope—the transcript of Hart's testimony from yesterday.

"Objection!" Wright shouted, pointing at Larry. "W-wait just a sec, Larry!"

"Wh-what!?" Larry replied.

"You only heard one 'bang'!? You're sure!?"

"That's what I said!"

"But Ms. Lotta Hart testified yesterday that she heard two 'bang's! And the old man just now said the same thing! They both heard two gunshots that night!"

"Huh?"

Wright slammed his desk. "Were you even listening!?"

_I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't…_

"Were you paying attention at all to what they said?" Wright continued.

"Yo, Nick, please!" Larry almost shouted.

"Huh?"

"You know, something's been bothering me. I'm a witness, see? I'm like a customer here! So you got to treat me nice and stuff, okay!?"

_He makes Gumshoe look smart…_

"Mr. Butz," the judge said.

"What!?"

"You only heard one gunshot? Are you sure?"

Larry crossed his arms and seemed to do what little thinking his brain was capable of. "Umm… Well, to tell ya the truth… I'm not sure."

"Eh…?"

"Not sure!?" Wright cried. "H-how could you not be sure?"

"Yeah, well…" Larry started, "I, uh, I might have missed the other gunshot. I was, uh, listening to something else…"

"Something… else?"

"My radio, dude! On my headphones."

"Whaaaaaat!?"

The gallery began jeering at Larry—or possibly at Wright. The judge banged his gavel.

"Order! Order!" he demanded. "And stop that booing! M-Mr. Butz! You were listening to a radio on earphones?"

"Y-yeah!" Larry snapped. "So what! That a crime!? I listen to my radio! Everybody listens to the radio! What's the big deal!?"

"Hmm…"

_This guy's behavior warrants much more than a "Hmm…," Your Honor._

"Mr. von Karma… your opinion?" the judge asked.

"Waste of time," von Karma replied. "I do not accept this witness, nor his shoddy testimony."

"Hmm… Well, Mr. Wright? Should he continue the testimony?"

_It's the lesser of two evils._

"Your Honor," Wright said. "Please… please allow the witness to continue his testimony."

"Bah!" von Karma huffed. "Nothing is more pitiful than a lawyer who doesn't know when he's lost!"

"Very well, Mr. Butz," the judge said. "Please give your testimony, and be sure to include details like your RADIO."

"Right!" Larry exclaimed. "Leave it to me!"

_I wouldn't if there were any other way out of this, believe me._

"It's lonely, being alone on Christmas Eve!" Larry commented, beginning his testimony. "That's why I was listening to an all-requests show on the radio, see? I was listening to it real booming loud, like. But I'm sure I heard that gunshot! I remember exactly what the DJ was saying when I heard it, too."

"You were listening to your radio… at a high volume!?" the judge spat.

"Yeah, what's the big problem?" Larry screeched, his voice cracking. "Can't a man listen to his radio in peace? Isn't this a free country!?"

_And we're free to think poorly of you, which I guarantee you almost everyone in this courtroom is doing._

"Judge," von Karma said. "Can you believe a word this witness says? What he heard was probably nothing more than a drum beat from the radio!"

"True enough, it is difficult to believe this testimony," the judge agreed.

"Objection!" Wright shouted, banging on his desk. "Wait, Your Honor! The witness said he remembers exactly what the DJ said when he heard the gunshot!"

"Excuse me? 'Dee-jay'…?"

"An announcer… the guy who says things on the radio. Anyway! What this means is, when he heard the sound, no music was playing! The DJ only talks between songs! So he could have heard the gunshot from the lake! I'd like to cross-examine the witness, Your Honor!"

"V-very well, Mr. Wright."

Wright was given the testimony. "So, you turned on the radio?" he asked.

"Right!" Larry replied. "I just wanted to hear someone's voice y'know? You don't know what it's like out there, alone, on Christmas Eve! Alone!"

_If this fool ever met Franziska, his skin would be reduced to ribbons._

"That's why I was listening to an all-requests show on the radio, see?" Larry continued. "I was listening to it real booming loud, like. But I'm sure I heard that gunshot! I remember exactly what the DJ was saying when I heard it, too."

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "What did he say?"

"Objection!" von Karma interrupted. "Mr. Wright! Please cease these pointless questions! What possible good could knowing what a radio DJ said do us!?"

"Indeed, Mr. von Karma has a point," the judge said. "I'll allow the question only if you see some reason why we should care…?"

_I don't see any reason. They were probably just saying some stupid piece of gossip about a celebrity._

Wright hit his desk. "We should care, Your Honor!" he half-shouted. "Of course we should!"

"Why?" von Karma asked.

"Uh. W-well, how do you know if we don't ask, hmm?"

_Great. He's grasping._

"Fine, very well," the judge said with a sigh. "Mr. Butz, please testify to the court. What was the radio announcer saying when you heard the gunshot?"

"Just when she said 'Hey! It's almost Christmas!' I heard the gunshot!" Larry said.

"Objection!" Wright barked, slamming on his desk. "Larry! Are you absolutely sure what you're saying is correct!?"

"Huh? What's with the face? You look scary, dude. Hey, if you're trying to scare me, you better know I don't scare that easy!"

"Is something the matter, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"Your Honor!" Wright called. "Did you hear what the witness just said? The DJ said 'Hey! It's almost Christmas!' when he heard the gunshot!"

"Indeed… And…?"

"'Almost Christmas' means it wasn't Christmas! Do you realize what this means?" Wright banged on his desk. "When he heard the gunshot, it was still Christmas Eve!!"

_What!?_

"That would seem to be the case, yes…" the judge admitted.

"But he should have heard that gunshot after midnight!" Wright continued, taking out the photograph. "This photograph is irrefutable proof of this fact!"

"Let's see what the time was on the photo taken when the gun triggered Ms. Hart's camera. 12/25 00:15 …! Fifteen minutes after midnight, on Christmas Day!"

Wright pounded on his desk. "This is a clear contradiction, Your Honor!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Order!" he demanded. "Order!" The gallery calmed down. "What does this mean? The two prior witnesses heard gunshots after midnight. However, this witness says he heard a gunshot before midnight…"

"Judge," von Karma said. "The answer is simple." He snapped his fingers. "The current witness is plainly mistaken. Just look at him! Suspicious!"

"Wh-whaaat!?" Larry screeched at the prosecutor.

_I doubt a radio show would be more than fifteen minutes off…_

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Well, Mr. Wright? What do you think about Mr. Butz's claim he heard the gunshot before midnight?"

"Larry's not mistaken, Your Honor!" Wright replied. He slammed on his desk, then pointed at Larry. "He heard that gunshot before midnight!"

"Intriguing," von Karma said after a pause. "I'm assuming you have evidence for this wild claim?" He snapped his fingers. "Show me evidence there was a gunshot before midnight!"

"Take that!" Wright shouted, holding up a picture of the lake. "Look at this photograph! This was taken by our witness yesterday, Ms. Lotta Hart, with her automatic camera. The timestamp on the photo reads 'December 24, 11:50 PM."

"Oh yeah?" the judge asked, taking a look for himself when the bailiff handed it to him. "Hmm? But, there's nothing on the lake in this picture."

"Your Honor. The real issue here is not why nothing is shown in this photograph. It is why this photograph exists at all!"

"What do you mean?"

"Your Honor… This photograph was taken by an automatic camera. That camera was set to go off in response to loud noises!"

"Ahah!"

_This… is a stroke of incredible luck. If that photo was the result of a gunshot, then it's possible the victim was shot somewhere other than the boat!_

"Correct!" Wright said. "There was a loud noise on the lake at 11:50 PM. That is why this photograph was taken! In other words…" Wright paused and slammed on his desk. "When Larry heard that gunshot, it was most definitely Christmas Eve!"

"Indeed, it would seem that is the case!" the judge commented. "Then… where does that leave us? Ms. Hart testified that she heard the gunshots after midnight. Are you claiming she was mistaken?"

"Not at all, Your Honor. It is a fact that the camera also triggered at 15 minutes after midnight!" Wright hit his desk again. "Your Honor! That night, there were two sets of gunshots, with a 25 minute pause between them!"

The gallery poured comments into the courtroom until the judge's gavel told them to be quiet.

"Why would this be…?" the judge asked.

"Objection!" von Karma cut in. "Don't be fooled, Judge! That camera was set to respond to 'loud noises'!"

"Yes?"

Von Karma shook his head and wagged his finger. "There is no proof that the 'loud noise' at 11:50 was a gunshot! Why, the witness could have sneezed, triggering the camera!"

"H-hey, my nose was clear that night, man!" Larry barked. "Clear!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Well, Mr. Wright? There's no turning back now. Can you prove that the 'loud noise' at 11:50 PM was indeed a gunshot? Please show the court evidence if you have any."

"This is my evidence," Wright said, pointing to the murder weapon.

"The… murder weapon?"

"Something about this pistol was bothering me, Your Honor. Both of the witnesses who testified yesterday heard two gunshots."

_Only one of them testified yesterday!_

"However," Wright continued, "the murder weapon was fired three times. When, then, was the last shot fired? Only now have I realized the truth." Wright banged on his desk. "That third shot was the shot Larry heard just before midnight!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel once to restore order.

"Order! Order!" he yelled. "Hmm… That would make sense of the evidence we've seen so far. …However… This leaves me wondering exactly what did happen that night on the lake."

"Exactly!" von Karma added. "If this is true, there were two sets of gunshots, separated by 25 minutes! One at 11:50, another at 15 minutes after midnight!" He snapped his fingers. "Why, I ask you! Why!?"

_Because I was framed, that's why!_

"Aaaaaaaaah!" Wright screamed.

"Wh-what's wrong, Nick!?" Maya asked, panicked.

"I have it! I have it!"

"Huh?"

"Remember the case with the Steel Samurai!?"

"Huh? Yeah, of course I remember…"

"The murderer in this case had the same idea as the murderer in that case!"

"What do you mean?"

"Maya!"

"Yes!?"

"If we don't figure this out now, we'll never overturn Edgeworth's guilty verdict! I've got a hunch, and I'm going to run with it…"

"Right! I mean… is this safe?"

"Safe? We've already gotten a guilty verdict! We have nothing to lose!"

Maya didn't say anything.

"You just watch and let me know if I say anything that sounds fishy, okay?"

"Right, Nick!"

Wright slammed on his desk.

"Your Honor!" he shouted.

"Y-yes, Mr. Wright?" the judge responded.

"The testimony just now has cleared up this entire case!"

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge banged his gavel three times.

"What do you mean, Mr. Wright!?" he demanded.

"Tsk tsk tsk…" von Karma snickered. "So, you've finally realized the truth? There can be no other murderer here than Miles Edgeworth himself."

_That tone of voice… I've heard it before… That time he spooked that horse and got Franziska hurt… He said repeatedly that it was me… He knows it! He knows I'm innocent! This… I can't believe I once respected this monster! This isn't something petty! It's murder! He's knowingly trying to prove me guilty of murder!_

"Wrong, von Karma!" Wright replied. "A man was shot that night, but it wasn't Edgeworth who did the shooting!"

Von Karma shook his head and wagged his finger at Wright. "Listen, rookie. Take a deep breath, and consider the facts. At the time of the murder, one boat was on that lake. This was shown by the witness's photograph. The defendant, Edgeworth, and the victim, Robert Hammond were on that boat. There was a gunshot fired on that boat, and Robert Hammond fell into the lake. The distance of the shooting was one meter. It couldn't have been suicide! Well?" He snapped his fingers. "The guilty party has to be the other man on that boat!"

"I admit, it is hard to imagine any other possibility," the judge agreed.

"Yes…" Wright admitted. "But this assumes that the victim was shot at 15 minutes after midnight."

"What do you mean by that, Mr. Wright? We have photographic evidence of the time of the shooting. The timestamp on the photo says 00:15."

"But Larry heard a gunshot 25 minutes before that!" Wright pounded on his desk. "Robert Hammond was killed then! 25 minutes before the shot on the lake!"

_That… makes perfect sense…_

The judge was speechless.

"Mr. Wright," von Karma said after a moment. "Are you quite mad? Explain who this is sitting on the boat!"

_The only mad one is you, von Karma._

"Of course, it was Edgeworth and the murderer!" Wright replied. "After the murderer killed Robert Hammond at 11:50… He assumed the guise of Mr. Hammond and met Edgeworth!"

The gallery started up, silenced by a few whacks of the judge's gavel. He was going to break it at this rate.

"Wh… What!?" the judge stammered. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," Wright answered. "Edgeworth won't tell us why he went to the lake that night. However, I have a hunch. That night, Robert Hammond called Edgeworth to the lake. Now, Edgeworth didn't know Robert Hammond's face that well." Wright hit his desk, then pointed at the judge. "That's why he didn't suspect anything when the murderer took Robert Hammond's place!"

_That's… possible, I suppose. The only proof I had that I was meeting Hammond was that he told me he was Hammond._

"I'm not sure what to make of all this," the judge said.

"L-Ludicrous!" von Karma barked.

_But you know!_

"Mr. Wright," the judge said. "Tell us the name of the murderer then!"

"The murderer's name…? Right! It's… Actually, I don't know the murderer's name."

"Y-you don't know!?"

"Bah!" von Karma hissed. "Again, you waste my time!"

Wright hit his desk as though it was a drum. "I don't know because he never told us!" he shouted. "The murderer is the caretaker of the boat shop, that old man!" He banged on his desk again and then pointed at von Karma. "At 11:50, he was the one who killed Robert Hammond."

"The caretaker of the boat shop!?" the judge asked. "Wh-where did he do this!? There weren't any boats on the lake then!"

"Why would he have to go all the way out on the lake just to shoot someone? May I suggest… That the real scene of this crime was not in a boat!"

"What!? W-well then, where did the murder take place!?"

Wright pointed to the boat shop on the map.

"Here, of course!" he said. "The boat shop, where he lives. That way he could meet with the victim without anyone seeing!"

"Objection!" von Karma shouted. "Do you have proof that the boat shop was the scene of the crime!?"

"Recall Larry's testimony if you will. That night he was out on the lake in a boat, searching for something. He finds it, and returns the boat. Then, just as he's starting to head for home, he hears a gunshot! He heard a gunshot, Your Honor! Even though he was wearing headphones at the time! In other words, the gunshot was very, very close by! And where would that be if he had just returned a boat?"

"The boat shop…!" the judge finished.

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"Mr. Wright!" he called. "What happened that night on Gourd Lake!? Please tell the court, from the beginning!"

"Y-yes, Your Honor," Wright said.

"Nick, are you sure about this…?" Maya asked.

"Um, not really. But, I think if I start at the very beginning… And I take it slow, I might just be able to figure this out…" He looked out to the court. "That night… The caretaker of the boat shop called Robert Hammond to his shop. This was around 11:50. That was when the gunshot that Larry heard was fired. After that, the caretaker put on Robert Hammond's coat… He became Robert Hammond! Then he got in the boat with Edgeworth, and went out into the middle of the lake."

"Then… who fired the pistol on the boat, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"Of course, it was the murderer who shot the pistol. He shot twice. Both missed Edgeworth, on purpose."

"Wait a minute…"

"Y-yes?"

"Why would he shoot twice if he didn't mean to hit anyone?"

"Uh…"

_That's… a good question…_

"Know this, Mr. Wright," von Karma taunted. "The moment you run out of explanations is the moment you lose." He snapped his fingers. "Tell us why the murderer had to fire twice!"

"I believe he shot twice to create a witness, Your Honor," Wright said.

"Create a witness…?" the judge repeated.

"The murderer lifts his pistol and fires one shot. That ensures that anyone who heard the shot would look at the lake. Indeed, Ms. Hart did exactly that after hearing the first gunshot. Next! The murderer waits a bit and he fires again. Then… The murderer jumps from the boat himself! Leaving the pistol in the boat behind him."

"I see!" the judge said after a pause. "To someone looking from the edge of the lake… It would appear that one of the men on the boat had shot the other!"

"The murderer didn't know about the automatic camera, of course." Wright slammed on his desk. "That's why he shot twice to draw attention to the boat!"

"Hmm…"

"Once you realize that, everything else falls into place! The boat shop caretaker swam back to his shop. Then he put Mr. Hammond's wet coat back on the body. And threw the body into the lake! This is what happened, Your Honor. These are the events that transpired that night on Gourd Lake."

The court was silent. The judge banged his gavel once, simply to hear something. He didn't say anything, though.

"Bailiff!" he finally ordered after realizing the court's eyes were on him. "Bring out the witness from before! The boat shop caretaker! Quickly!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Very well," he continued. "While we are waiting for the caretaker… I would like to ask the defendant, Miles Edgeworth, a few questions. Mr. Edgeworth. Please take the stand."

Miles walked to the stand.

"Mr. Edgeworth…" the judge said. "You heard what the defense has said?"

"Yes," Miles replied.

"Well? Why did you go to the lake that night?"

Miles was silent for a moment.

"What Wright was said was mostly correct," he said. "Astonishingly so, actually. Yes… Several days ago, I received a letter. The letter was signed, 'Robert Hammond.' He asked me to come to the boat shop by the lake at midnight on Christmas Eve. He said he had something very important to discuss with me."

"Something important?" the judge asked.

_To think it was all a trap… And that man used my father as a lure…_

"I'm sorry," Miles said. "I can't say what it was."

"Hmm…"

"Your Honor, sir!" a voice cried.

"Bailiff!" the judge barked. "We are conducting a trial here, I ask that you remain quiet…"

"The witness has disappeared! He isn't at the boat shop, either!"

"What!?"

"What should I do?"

"F-find him, quickly! We cannot allow him to get away!"

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge banged his gavel repeatedly until the courtroom was silent again.

"Mr. von Karma!" the judge shouted after everything was calm. "Your witness has disappeared!"

"A search warrant has already been issued," von Karma said.

"Hmm… It goes without saying that I cannot declare a verdict under these circumstances. I will extend the trial until tomorrow, the final day allowed. I request that the police department utilize all its forces to find that witness! Am I understood?"

Von Karma was silent.

"One more thing," the judge continued. "Just who is that boat shop caretaker? I think his identity has become very important to this trial. I want him and I want to know who he is." There was another pause. "Very well. Court is adjourned!" The judge banged his gavel.

* * *

The thought of his father's death plagued Miles as Wright and Maya escorted him to the Defendant Lobby.

_That letter… The old man must suspect that I killed my father. I know that it's entirely possible that I did… But… How did he know? I've told no one… not even Lana…. That man must know something about DL-6. But… What if I really did kill my father?_

"Umm… Mr. Edgeworth?" a voice said

Miles realized Wright's and Maya's eyes were on him.

"D-did you say something?" Miles asked.

"Don't look so pained!" Maya said. "I mean, it looks like you're probably going to get off the hook! You could try to smile just a little…? Relax!"

_If only you knew…_

"I'm sorry…" Miles said. "But… I fear it's not over for me yet."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Wright stammered.

"Wright… There's something that's been troubling me for a long time now. And I don't know whether or not to tell you…"

_Should I tell him?_

"Edgeworth?"

"No… there's so little time left. I want to tell you, to get it off my chest, but…"

_But what if it really is just a dream?_

"Hmm," Miles sighed. "I can't make up my mind."

"What is this about, Edgeworth?"

_I need to tell him…_

"It's… a nightmare I've had. A memory of a crime… that I committed."

"A crime you committed?"

"A memory… of a murder."


	21. Part I, Chapter 20: Judgment

**Chapter 20—Judgment**

December 28, 2016 and December 29, 2016

Wright had managed to provide proof that there could have been another killer: the boat shop caretaker. Lana had no information on who the man was, but she believed that he was connected to DL-6. The only logical conclusion was that he was Yanni Yogi. Miles was the defendant, Hammond the victim, and von Karma the prosecutor. With Miles's father, Gregory, dead, the only possible person remaining with even a hint of a motive was Yogi. There was no proof, though, and Wright would be hard-pressed to establish the identity of a man who was feigning amnesia.

The judge banged his gavel to call court into session for the final day of Miles's trial.

"Court is now in session for the trial of Miles Edgeworth," he said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said.

"The prosecution… is ready," von Karma said after a "meaningful pause."

"U-uh… right, very well," the judge said. "We have reached the final day of our proceedings in this trial. I ask that the prosecution submit decisive evidence."

"Understood."

"Very well, Mr. von Karma, your opening statement."

"Right. Thanks to Detective Gumshoe's efforts, the boat rental shop caretaker has been arrested. In yesterday's trial, the defense asserted that the caretaker was the murderer. However, the caretaker has yet to confirm this. I would like to ask the defense to cross-examine him as much as necessary."

"Very well! Please bring the witness into the courtroom."

Yogi took the stand and pretended to fall asleep standing up.

_Your act didn't fool me yesterday, old man, and it won't fool me today._

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court…" von Karma said. "I believe you all remember our witness. He lives in the boat rental shop on the lake, from where he witnessed the incident. In addition, he has currently lost memory of his name and identity."

"Witness!" the judge called. "Why did you run away yesterday?"

"Objection!" von Karma yelled. "The witness was not running away, as he will now testify."

"I-I see. Very well, please begin your testimony."

Yogi "woke up."

"Er, I'm really sorry about just leaving yesterday like I did," he said. "But, I wasn't running away or nothing. I, uh, went to buy some food for Polly, see… I figured I got nothing to do with this incident anyhow. Er… I mean, I'd need one of those 'motive' things, right? And I don't got one. So, my testimony yesterday stands as is."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Very well. Let's begin the cross-examination, shall we?"

"You've lost much of your memory, is that correct?" Wright asked.

"Er… ayup, seems like it."

Wright banged on his desk. "Then how could you know that you didn't have anything to do with this incident!"

"Uh…"

"Or… Or maybe you're lying about not having your memory, hmm? You know exactly who you are!"

"Objection!" von Karma shouted. "The witness has testified quite clearly that he has no memory of who he is. If you claim he's lying, then show the court proof!"

Wright didn't respond.

"Hmph! I'm glad you've come to your senses, Mr. Wright. Very well, witness. Please continue."

"Er…" Yogi trailed off. "I mean, I'd need one of those 'motive' things, right? And I don't got one."

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "How can you say you had no motive? I say you do! You had a grudge against Edgeworth and the victim, Robert Hammond! That's why you took revenge on them! Right?"

"Objection!" von Karma barked. "Please don't make me repeat myself, Mr. Wright! This witness has no memory of anything beyond several years ago! He can't hold a grudge! It's impossible!"

The judge banged his gavel.

"Might I say something, Mr. Wright?" he requested.

"Yes…" Wright said. "Yes, Your Honor?"

"You've been saying the same thing now over and over. You've been calling the witness's memory of the past or lack thereof into question. But, does this really have anything to do with the current case?"

Wright nodded. "Of course, Your Honor. The witness has said he has 'nothing to do with this case' and 'no motive'…" He hit his desk. "Both of these statements are lies!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"Order! Order! Mr. Wright! There is a serious problem with your claim! Or… are you saying… Are you saying you know who this witness is!?"

_He wouldn't be making that claim if he didn't. Looks like Wright has this all figured out._

"Of course, Your Honor!" Wright said. Von Karma snapped his fingers.

"Ho hoh!" he guffawed. "Now, this is interesting. I would like to know myself! So, who is he?"

Wright started sweating.

_You're kidding! Von Karma knows!? And he's still… No word in the world can describe how horrible he is…_

"Mr. Wright, please tell us this witness's name," the judge ordered.

"His name is Yanni Yogi, a former court bailiff!" Wright shouted, pointing at the witness.

"Yogi…?" the judge repeated after a pause. "That name sounds familiar. …Oh! Yanni Yogi! From the DL-6 Incident! But, what does this mean?"

Wright pounded on his desk, then pointed at Yogi. "Your Honor! If this man is Mr. Yogi, then he has a clear motive!"

"Objection!" von Karma interrupted. "Tsk tsk tsk…" He shook his head and wagged his finger at Wright. "Jumping to conclusions again, Mr. Wright! This man, this witness, is Yanni Yogi? Fascinating! However… How do you propose to prove this to the court?"

Wright was silent for a moment.

"This is a court of law, as you may recall," von Karma continued. "You need proof! And, allow me to repeat, once more, that the witness has lost his memory!"

"Nick!" Maya said. She whispered something to Wright. Wright whispered something back.

"Your Honor!" Wright called. "Please take this man's fingerprints! Then, we'll compare them to the fingerprints on file for Yanni Yogi 15 years ago…"

"I see… that makes sense," the judge agreed.

"Tsk tsk tsk!" von Karma chuckled.

"Huh?" Wright chirped.

"I'm so very, very sorry, Mr. Wright."

"Wh-why?"

"The witness… has no fingerprints!"

"What? What!? No fingerprints!?"

Yogi, who had been pretending to sleep, "woke up."

"Er… you see," Yogi started, "before I worked as a caretaker, I worked at a chemical plant. I burned my fingers working with the stuff. Ayup."

"Wh-what!?" Wright howled.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Well, if the witness has no fingerprints… I guess we will not be able to prove his identity."

_No! There has to be some way…_

"Tsk tsk tsk…" von Karma laughed. "Well, what will you do, Mr. Wright?"

"Uh…"

"Hmm? It seems that the case has been decided, no?" Von Karma snapped his fingers.

_No! We're so close! It can't end now!_

"There is no one who can testify as to who this witness is!" von Karma yelled. "No one!"

"Nick!" Maya almost screamed. "What are we going to do!?"

Wright said something in response.

"Tsk tsk tsk… Well, Mr. Wright?" von Karma taunted. "Perhaps you'd like to cross-examine the parrot for a little comic relief, hmm?"

Lana gritted her teeth. She realized she was shaking.

Maya said something to Wright.

"Your Honor!" Wright called. He hit his desk. "The defense would like to take Mr. von Karma up on his proposal!"

_WHAT!?_

"Take Mr. von Karma up?" the judge repeated.

"On his… proposal?" von Karma finished.

"Exactly, Your Honor!" Wright shouted. "I would like to cross-examine the witness's pet parrot!"

_Cross-examine the parrot!? Are you out of your mind!?_

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge whacked his gavel a few times.

"O-order!" he bellowed. The gallery was still fairly noisy. "Order!" They finally quieted down. "Uh… well, what do you think, Mr. von Karma?"

"Need you even ask!?" von Karma roared. "This is a farce! I object!"

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "Wait a second! You were the one who suggested I cross-examine the parrot, von Karma!" Wright banged on his desk. "I have a right to do as you suggested!"

"Mmph…" He paused. "Well, if you're so desperate, then please, be my guest. Of course, should you go through with this… And nothing comes of it, then I hope you're ready for the consequences."

Maya said something to Wright. Her voice was teeming with worry. Von Karma snapped his fingers.

"Well?" he demanded. "Still want to go through with your little game!?"

"Let the parrot take the stand," Wright said. "I will cross-examine her, Your Honor."

"This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!"

_For once, I agree with you, von Karma._

The judge banged his gavel.

"Bailiff!" he yelled. "Bring in the parrot."

A very lovely red parrot was brought in. It must have been quite calm, because it didn't move from its perch.

"That's… quite a bird," the judge commented. "Please tell us your name?"

The parrot said nothing.

"Name!"

Again, nothing.

"The witness is ignoring me."

_It's a parrot, Your Honor. It's not as if it actually understands the words it says._

The judge cleared his throat. "Very well, witness…" he said. "Who is your owner? Please, er… testify for us."

The parrot was silent. After a moment, it said "Hello!" twice, then squawked. Then it was silent again.

"Hmm… Certainly the most concise testimony we've had so far. Very well, begin your cross-examination."

"Right…" Wright said. He was sweating profusely. Maya said something. Wright said something in response.

Wright wiped the sweat from his brow, then slammed on his desk. His palms slipped a little from the sweat on them.

"Witness!" he barked. "You can't just say 'hello' and expect us to get anywhere! I want you to testify!" He turned to Maya. "Maya, you talk to her."

"R-right!" Maya said. "Uh… What do I say?"

Wright whispered something to Maya.

"Um, Polly?" Maya asked. "Have we forgotten something?"

The parrot was silent. After a moment…

"Hello! Hello!" The parrot then squawked again.

"Th-that's not what you're supposed to say!" Maya cried. "Forgot! Something we forgot!"

"Hello! Hello!" The parrot squawked.

"Uh oh. It's not working, Nick! She won't say it!"

"Tsk tsk tsk…" von Karma chuckled. "Something the matter, Mr. Wright?"

Lana thought she heard Wright growl. After a moment, he tried again.

"Witness!" he shouted. "You can't just say 'hello' and expect us to get anywhere! I want you to testify!" He turned to Maya again. "Maya, you talk to her."

"R-right!" Maya said. "Uh… What do I say?"

Wright whispered to Maya.

"Polly!" Maya called. "Polly! What's your name?"

"Pol-ly! Pol-ly!" the parrot replied. She then squawked.

"Mr. Wright…" the judge cut in. "I think we've established that this parrot is named 'Polly.' Does this have anything to do with her owner's identity?"

"Yes it does!" Wright said.

_It does?_

"Hah!" von Karma scoffed. "Fascinating! You claim that the parrot's name will prove her owner's identity? Then show us this proof!"

"Nick!" Maya snapped. "Don't you think you're taking the bluffing a little too far?"

Wright said something back to Maya. Lana heard him say "Yanni Yogi."

"Your Honor," Wright said. "The proof that the parrot's name reveals the caretaker's identity is… Take that!" Wright held out a file. It was handed to the judge.

"The DL-6 Case File?" he asked.

"Objection!" von Karma interrupted. "That's quite a large file you have there! Which page is this 'proof' on, then?" He snapped his fingers. "Show us, or stop wasting our time!"

"Hmm… Very well, Mr. Wright, please show us this page. Where in this file is the information connected to this parrot's name?"

"It's on the 'Suspect Data' page!" Wright replied.

The judge, as usual, looked confused.

"This page has all the information about Yanni Yogi! Right after he was arrested, his fiancée committed suicide, see?"

"Hmm…" the judge muttered. "Indeed, it does say that, yes."

"What was his fiancée's name?"

"'Polly Jenkins'… 'Polly'!"

"Exactly, Your Honor! He remembered the name of his fiancée who committed suicide." Wright banged on his desk. "That's why he named his parrot after her!"

"I see! I guess that is possible."

"Objection!" von Karma yelled. "Bah! A mere coincidence, that's all! My granddaughter has a dog she calls 'Phoenix.'" He snapped his fingers. "Well, Mr. Phoenix Wright? Does this make you my granddaughter's fiancée!? She's only seven years old!!"

"Hmm… Indeed. Alone, it is a little weak for evidence in a murder trial. We would need some other corroborating evidence…"

_I can't believe Wright is using such a ridiculous tactic…_

Maya said something to Wright.

"Hmph!" von Karma huffed.

"Very well, witness," the judge said. "You may continue."

The parrot was silent.

"Witness!" Wright yelled. "You can't just say 'hello' and expect us to get anywhere! I want you to testify!" He turned to Maya again. "Maya, you talk to her."

"R-right!" Maya said. "Uh… What do I say?"

Wright whispered to Maya. Maya said something in response. It sounded like a question. Wright said something else.

"Polly!" Maya called. "What was the number of the safe in the shack?"

"1228…" Polly said. "1228…"

"My, what a reckless parrot," the judge commented. "Well, Mr. Wright? you aren't claiming that this number has something to do with the caretaker?"

"Actually it does!" Wright replied.

"That's why I had her say it!"

_You've got to be kidding me…_

"Hah!" von Karma guffawed. "Ridiculous! How can the number to a safe tell us who the caretaker is?" He snapped his fingers. "Show us your proof! What could possibly link this number to the caretaker's true identity!?"

"Take that!" Wright shouted, holding out the DL-6 file again.

"The DL-6 Case File? What is this obsession you have with that case?"

_Look who's talking._

"Mr. Wright," the judge said. "Where in this file is something relating to that safe number?"

"It's on the 'Case Summary' page!" Wright exclaimed, pointing to the judge.

"The Case… Summary?" the judge repeated.

"Specifically, the date on which the DL-6 Incident occurred!"

"The date of the incident? December 28…? Why, that's today's date. Fifteen years ago!"

"And the number on that safe is 1228!"

"Ah!"

"He used the date of the DL-6 Incident as the number for his safe, Your Honor!" Wright pounded on his desk, then pointed at the judge. "That's how important that date was to him!"

"I see… It certainly is an interesting coincidence. People often do set their secret numbers to dates."

"Objection!" von Karma roared. "Bah! This is not tangible proof! I set my ATM card's number to '0001' because I'm number one!" He snapped his fingers. "This has nothing to do with a date! Nothing!"

The judge banged his gavel.

"That's enough!" he barked. "I think we've reached a conclusion here."

"This is a mere coincidence, that's all!" von Karma insisted. Lana could tell from the slight waver in his voice that he knew the caretaker's identity.

"True, that is a possibility. However, two coincidences at the same time seems more like a 'pattern' to me."

"Wh… what are you saying!?"

The judge whacked his gavel. "Summon the caretaker of the boat shop. Immediately!"

Yogi took the stand again and pretended to fall asleep.

"Witness…" the judge said. "Tell us your name."

"Objection!" von Karma shouted. "Wait! This witness, he doesn't remember…"

"No… it's okay," Yogi said. "I've accomplished what I wanted to do. I'm done."

"Nick!" Maya said. "He looks totally different!"

"This is the real Yogi, I think," Wright said. "Finally. He's been acting feeble to hide his true identity. Acting… for 15 years!"

"W-well…!" the judge stammered. "Let me ask you again. Please state your name for the court!"

"My name… is Yanni Yogi," Yogi said. "15 years ago, I served as a bailiff in this very court."

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge banged his gavel to quiet them down, yelling "Order!" to emphasize his demands.

"Yanni Yogi!" the judge called. "So was it you who killed Robert Hammond…? And tried to frame Miles Edgeworth for his death?"

The court was silent. All eyes were on Yogi.

"Yes," Yogi said. "It was me. I did it. …They put me on the witness stand 15 years ago… Robert Hammond… he said I was mentally unsound. He told me it would make me innocent. Get me off the hook. So… I pretended to have brain damage… I was innocent, really! But he didn't believe me! We won the trial… But I lost everything. I lost my job, my fiancée, my social standing…

"…Then, this year, 15 years later… A package arrived. It was a letter… and a pistol. The plan was written out in careful detail. It was a plan for me to take my revenge on the people who ruined my life. I didn't care who had sent it. I thought this was my chance, after 15 years, this was it! Finally, a chance to have my revenge on Robert Hammond and Miles Edgeworth… I have no regrets."

"W-wait a moment!" the judge shouted. "Revenge… against Miles Edgeworth? What do you mean?"

"I'm not at liberty to speak on that matter. Why don't you ask Mr. Edgeworth yourself? Anyway, I admit it, I was the one who killed Robert Hammond."

Yogi was taken from the stand and escorted out of the courtroom.

"Von Karma…" the judge said. "Where is Mr. Yogi?"

"Under arrest, Your Honor," von Karma replied. "I saw no room for error in his confession."

"Then… the defendant, Miles Edgeworth is…"

"Innocent. In this case, at least."

"Hmm." The judge nodded. "Very well. Will the defendant please take the stand?"

_It's over… Miles… God, if you exist, you have my eternal gratitude…_

Miles walked up to the witness stand. He looked as though he had just seen Hell and been told he was going there.

_Miles, it's over. You're free. Don't look so sad…_

"There are a few mysteries left unsolved," the judge said. "Still, you are cleared of suspicion for this particular case. So I would like to pass judgment on the murder of Mr. Robert Hammond. Any objections?"

Wright was silent, naturally. Miles said nothing. Von Karma kept his mouth closed. He must have been struggling to accept that he had lost.

"Very well," the judge said. "This court finds the defendant, Mr. Miles Edgeworth… not guilty."

The entire gallery was on its feet—even Lana. Lana said nothing, but she pumped her fist in the air, tears rolling down her cheeks.

After a moment, the judge banged his gavel again.

"That is all," he said. "The court is adjourned!"

"Objection!" a voice shouted.

_What? No… That was Miles's voice…_

"D-did someone just say 'objection'?" the judge asked.

"No…" Wright whimpered. "Edgeworth!?"

"Your Honor," Miles said. "I object to your judgment."

_Miles, no!_

"Wh-what do you mean?" the judge asked.

"I'm not innocent at all! As we have heard, Yanni Yogi killed Robert Hammond in revenge. But, revenge for what?"

"Nick!" Maya almost screamed. "Edgeworth is trying to confess! He's going to say he's guilty! He's going to tell them he was the murderer in the DL-6 Incident! He's going to tell them he killed his own dad!"

_No! Miles couldn't have done it!_

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "The judgment has already been passed! I object to Edgeworth's outburst…"

"Objection!" von Karma countered. "Didn't something like this happen yesterday, too? I believe a certain witness raised an objection after a guilty verdict was passed. We must hear this new statement!" He snapped his fingers. "We must hear Miles Edgeworth!"

"He's right," the judge agreed. "We have a duty to hear Mr. Edgeworth out."

_Miles… What are you doing? You're innocent! You couldn't have killed your father!_

"For fifteen years…" Miles started, "I have had a recurring dream. A nightmare… it's only a nightmare. That's what I told myself. But now I know, it wasn't a dream. Yanni Yogi wasn't the killer."

"You mean… in the incident where your father died?" the judge asked.

"From the distance of the shot, it wasn't suicide, either. Everything was as clear as day. The murderer… The criminal in the DL-6 Incident… It was me!"

_No!_

"Your Honor!" Miles continued. "I confess my guilt! I am guilty for DL-6, the statute of limitations of which ends today! The culprit… is me!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"Order!" he screamed. "Order!"

Lana was speechless. Miles couldn't have done it. Why would he kill his own father?

"This is certainly unexpected!" the judge said. "The defendant, declared innocent, is confessing to a different crime! A crime for which the statute of limitations runs out today! I'm not really sure how I should deal with this…"

"Bah!" von Karma scoffed. "It's obvious. We hold a trial. Right here. Right now." He snapped his fingers. "We try this man for his crime of fifteen years ago!"

The judge banged his gavel. "I think… I think I would like to take a five-minute recess. During this time, I will consider the appropriate course of action to take. Court is adjourned!" He banged his gavel again.

* * *

After the brief recess, the judge banged his gavel.

"Then, I would like to resume our trial," he said.

"Judge!" von Karma snapped. "Miles Edgeworth has admitted his own guilt. He has confessed his crime. Let us begin by hearing his testimony. Then, though pointless, let the defense do their cross-examining. The statute of limitations on the DL-6 Incident runs out today. Though it's unconventional for me, I'd like to run this one by the book."

"I see. Does the defense have any objections?"

"No, Your Honor," Wright said, shaking his head.

"Very well." The judge banged his gavel. "Will Miles Edgeworth take the stand?"

Miles took the stand again.

_Miles… You're innocent. Why are you torturing yourself like this?_

"Will the witness state his name and profession," von Karma ordered.

"Miles Edgeworth…" Miles said. "I am a prosecuting attorney."

"Mr. Edgeworth. Fifteen years ago, you mistakenly killed your father, Gregory Edgeworth. Is this correct?"

"…It is correct."

"Then testify about this matter to the court."

Maya was whispering something. It sounded like praying.

"That day," Miles began, "I had gone to the courtroom to observe one of my father's trials. As we went to leave, an earthquake struck, trapping us in the elevator. My father and Mr. Yogi lost their composure, and began to argue. Just then, something heavy fell at my feet. I picked it up, and threw it at Mr. Yogi. I wanted them to stop fighting. A moment later, there was a single gunshot, then a scream. It was a terrible scream. I remember it to this day. That's all."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "And, until now, you thought this memory was a 'dream'?"

"We were stuck in that elevator for five hours. The oxygen in the elevator ran out, and I lost my memory of the events."

"Bah!" von Karma spat. "The same claim Mr. Yogi has made!"

"Very well," the judge said. "Mr. Wright? Your cross-examination, please."

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said.

_It was just a dream… It's not suitable as evidence._

"Are you sure you only heard one gunshot?" Wright asked.

"Yes," Miles replied. "I'm sure of that. I heard the shot, and the scream… Then everything faded. I was unconscious until the rescuers came."

"I see…" the judge said. Wright shook his head.

"But that doesn't make sense!" Wright added. "Look at this file one more time."

_The DL-6 File?_

"This plainly contradicts the witness's testimony," Wright continued.

"Objection!" von Karma barked. "You do enjoy dragging out that file, don't you? I don't accept this evidence! Unless… you can tell us what page it's on! Which page contradicts Miles Edgeworth's testimony?"

"Look at the 'Victim Data' in this file!" Wright banged on his desk. "It says quite plainly: 'the murder weapon was fired twice'!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"Miles Edgeworth only heard one gunshot!" Wright said. "Yet, the murder weapon was fired twice! The first shot was the accidental firing when the pistol was thrown." He slammed on his desk. "So… who fired the remaining shot!?"

Again, the gallery started chatting. The judge restored order.

"Hmm…" he mumbled. "Was there, perhaps, another shooter who fired that second shot?"

"Objection!" von Karma shouted. "Your Honor. As I'm sure you're aware… This incident occurred fifteen years ago. The evidence is dated… The pistol did fire twice. However, we do not know WHEN that second shot was fired." He wagged his finger at Wright. "It might have been fired the day before the incident!" He snapped his fingers. "There is no proof that the second shot had anything to do with this incident!"

_There's also no proof that it had nothing to do with the incident!_

"Hmm… see, I see," the judge said. "You do have a point. Mr. Wright? The murder weapon was fired twice, as we have heard. One of those shots was fired by the defendant, a boy at the time. Do you have any proof that the other shot fired had something to do with the case?"

Wright hit his desk, then pointed at the judge. "Your Honor," he said. "I think I will be able to show you proof."

"Wh-what!?" von Karma snapped. "Impossible!"

"Now, now, Mr. von Karma," the judge said. "Save your surprise for after you've seen the evidence. Very well, Mr. Wright. Show us your proof. Do you have evidence that the second firing of the pistol is related to this incident?"

"Look at this photograph," Wright said, taking out a photograph. It was handed to the judge.

"This is a photograph of the scene of the crime, fifteen years ago," the judge said. I can see that the victim lying there is Gregory Edgeworth…"

"This proves the murder weapon was fired twice, at the time of the incident! This photo proves it!"

_How? I can't see any… The bullet hole…_

"So let me get this straight," the judge said. "This photo proves two shots were fired? Where?"

_Stupid…_

Wright banged on his desk. "As should be obvious," he said, "the contradiction is here."

"I see… a bullet hole in the door…" the judge replied. Wright pounded on his desk.

"Your Honor! Gregory Edgeworth was killed by a shot from the pistol! Yet, there is also a bullet hole in the elevator door! We also know that the murder weapon was fired twice! Thus… Someone other than Edgeworth fired that second shot!"

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge banged his gavel.

"O-order!" he shouted. "Order! Mr. Wright! What are you driving at?"

"It's simple, Your Honor," Wright replied. "At the time of the incident, two shots were fired. One went into Gregory Edgeworth's heart. The other hit the elevator door." He slammed on his desk. "Remember that the defendant lost consciousness after the shot he fired rang out. In conclusion… We must agree that the second shot was fired by someone else!"

"M-Mr. Wright! But who could that someone else be!?"

"The murderer, of course!"

"Objection!" von Karma roared. "…I knew I should have stepped in before your wild fantasies got out of hand. Mr. Wright… Look once more at the DL-6 Incident case file. Look closely. Try the 'Case Summary' page. Look what is written there! 'Not a single clue was found on the scene.' If the pistol had indeed been fired two times… Then the other bullet would have been discovered on the scene!"

"He does have a point," the judge agreed.

"That second bullet has never been found!" He snapped his fingers. "Why? Because the second bullet does not exist! The bullet that claimed Gregory Edgeworth's life was the one fired by his own son! That is the truth of this matter. The whole truth. It was undoubtedly something else that made that bullet hole in the door."

_Prove it, von Karma!_ Lana thought as the judge tried to silence the again noisy gallery.

"Order!" he bellowed. "I will have order!" He paused. "Mr. Wright has proven one thing to us quite clearly… That the murder weapon was fired twice at the time of the incident. However! As Mr. von Karma says, the second bullet fired was not found. It is highly unlikely that the police merely overlooked this second bullet." He banged his gavel. "So, all we have is the single bullet fired. I'm afraid I have to discount the defense's claim."

"Tsk tsk tsk…" von Karma snickered. "I praise the judge for his wisdom in this matter."

_No… No! We've gotten so far!_

"What are you doing, Nick!?" Maya yelled. "Why aren't you raising an objection!?"

"…I'm sorry, Maya," Wright said.

"What?"

"I… It looks like I was wrong."

"Nick…?"

_No! Don't give up, Wright!_

"If the second bullet wasn't there," Wright sobbed, "then all my conjectures are for nothing!"

"N-no… But you said you'd do it, Nick! You said you'd get Edgeworth declared innocent!"

_What would Mia think of you, Wright!?_

"I'm sorry…" Wright sighed. "It's just, when I saw the photgraph, I thought that two shots had been fired. I was so certain of it. I thought I'd won! I thought there was another person, someone else who fired the killing shot. But now… I was wrong to think it could be that simple. This case has stood unsolved for fifteen years!"

"Nick…"

The judge banged his gavel.

"Well, it seems that we have finally cleared up this incident," he said.

_NO!!_

"Only one bullet was found at the scene of the crime," the judge continued. "That shot was fired by Miles Edgeworth."

"Precisely," von Karma sneered.

"I would like to ask one thing of Miles Edgeworth before passing my verdict. Have you been paying attention to the trial so far?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Miles replied.

"Do you have any objections?"

"No… No, I do not."

_NO!! MILES!!_

"So you killed your father, though that was not your intention?"

"…Yes, I did."

Maya said something. She sounded on the verge of tears.

"Very well," the judge said.

_Miles…_

"The statute of limitations on the murder of Gregory Edgeworth runs out today," the judge said. "Therefore, I must pronounce my verdict on the defendant today, right here…"

Von Karma snapped his fingers. "Right now!" he ordered.

"Indeed. Does anyone have any objections?"

_Come on, think, Lana! If Wright can't find anything, do it yourself! There has to be a way! The second bullet… What if it fell into the elevator shaft? Or what if the killer took it!?_

"Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"Objection!" Wright shouted.

_YES!!_

"Your Honor!" Wright barked, slamming on his desk. "I… I object!"

"Tsk tsk tsk," von Karma chuckled. He shook his head and wagged his finger at Wright. "Mr. Wright, on what grounds do you object, hmm?"

"Oof!"

_What!?_

Maya said something to Wright.

"Grah!" Wright spat. Wright suddenly jerked back in shock at something. "Wh-what?" he asked Maya. "What did you just say?"

"N-nothing!" Maya said.

_Say something, Wright! Find something—anything!_

"It seems waiting is not going to produce any answers from Mr. Wright," the judge said. Wright banged on his desk.

"Wait, Your Honor!" Wright begged.

"Hmm?"

"I, uh… Th-the second bullet! It, uh, it exists!"

"What!? But we've just heard proof that it did not exist!"

"I-I realize that, Your Honor."

_He sounds just like Mia when she's cornered… So persistent until everything's accounted for…_

Wright pounded on his desk. "I-it's just, someone took it from the scene of the crime! That's what happened!"

"But… Who!?" the judge asked.

"Th-th-the murderer!"

"Objection!" von Karma roared. "The murderer? Then tell us, just who is this 'murderer'?"

"I'm… still thinking about that one."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "So the criminal took the second bullet? Why would he?"

"Huh?"

"First of all, how would he have found it? It's not easy to find a stray bullet, Mr. Wright! Was there some pressing need for the murderer to search for that bullet?"

Wright said nothing, but he slumped over his desk, forming a puddle of sweat beneath him.

_Think, Wright! THINK!!_

"What's wrong, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"Uh… Um…" Wright stuttered.

"Bah!" von Karma scoffed. "The murderer had no reason to take that bullet! You don't want to admit it, but it's true!"

"Urk…"

_NO!!_

Wright suddenly jerked back again. He grasped his chin.

"Mr. Wright?" the judge asked again.

"Y-yes, Your Honor!" Wright replied, his voice shaking. "U-uh, well, the murderer had no intention of taking the bullet from the scene. But… uh, the murderer HAD to take that bullet."

"'Had to,' Mr. Wright? What do you mean?"

"Well, for instance…" He paused. "Uh. maybe the bullet, uh… hit the murderer?"

"The bullet… hit the murderer?"

_THAT'S IT!! IT WORKS!!_

"J-just saying, for instance," Wright stammered. "I mean, if it hit you, you would have to take it with you, wouldn't you? It's not like you could perform surgery right there. Y-y'know?"

The entire courtroom was silent.

_Come on, Wright! Run with it!_

"Let me get this straight," the judge said. "So at the time of the murder, the murderer himself was shot? And he left with the second bullet still inside!? Thus leaving only one bullet at the scene of the crime?"

"Uh, yes…" Wright stuttered. "I guess that's how it would work, yes."

"But there's a problem with that! The other two people rescued from that elevator… Miles Edgeworth and Yanni Yogi were both unharmed! So that would mean…"

"The murderer came from outside, yes."

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge banged his gavel repeatedly.

"The two men fight inside the elevator," Wright said. "Trying to stop them, the boy picks up the pistol at his feet and throws it. The pistol discharges, and the bullet…. The bullet goes through the elevator door and hits the murderer outside! The boy loses consciousness… Then the murderer opens the elevator door and sees the men inside…"

"Hmm," the judge mumbled. "Mr. Wright. You are truly the most unpredictable defense attorney I've ever known. I can tell you're grasping, yet I cannot deny the possibility of what you say."

"Objection!" von Karma roared. He snapped his fingers. "What are you saying! Deny it! Deny it! No one involved in the incident was wounded! There was no 'murderer'!"

"Hmm…"

_Because the murderer fled!_

Maya and Wright began whispering. Lana had trouble making out the beginning, but as they apparently got an idea, they got louder.

"But took it because he was injured!" Wright said.

"Which would mean…" Maya trailed off.

"It could only mean one thing!"

"He was the murderer in the DL-6 Incident!"

"He was the man who shot Gregory Edgeworth!"

"It was… von Karma!"

_Von Karma!? HE'S the killer!?_

"Something wrong, Mr. Wright?" the judge cut in. "You seem… dazed."

"Uh, n-no, Your Honor," Wright said.

"Well? You have indicated the possibility that the murderer came from outside. Can you give us the name of your suspect?"

Wright slammed on his desk.

"Your Honor!" he shouted. "There is a suspect… one lone suspect!"

"Well, this is certainly interesting news. Very well, Mr. Wright. Who is your suspect?"

"V-V-V…"

_Say it, damn it!_

"V-what?" the judge asked.

Wright banged on his desk. "Von Karma!" he shouted.

"Von Karma!?" Miles yelped.

Everything was silent. Von Karma was smiling.

_He's… smiling? Why would he…?_

"You mean, THE von Karma?" the judge asked, breaking the silence. "The prosecutor? Sitting right there?"

"Bah," von Karma scoffed.

"You… don't object?"

"Hmph. I see no need. Why honor this ridiculous outburst with my objection?"

Wright pounded his desk. "Because you took a vacation for several months starting the day after the incident!" he shouted. "Yet you pride yourself on a perfect record! Why would you take such a long vacation without any reason!?"

"So you're claiming that I took a vacation to heal my 'injury' from the incident? Fascinating! Prove it. I would have needed surgery, no? Where did I go under the knife at, Mr. Wright!?" He snapped his fingers. "Bring the doctor that operated on me! Have him testify!"

"Urk…"

"Nick!" Maya barked. "Let's find out who his doctor is!"

"It's no use," Miles said.

"E-Edgeworth!?"

"I know von Karma. Perhaps too well. He's perfect. He wouldn't leave clues. He probably didn't undergo surgery. That would leave a doctor as a witness."

_Wait… Miles… So you think von Karma… Then I'll believe it, too. I trust you, Miles._

"So… so what, Nick?" Maya asked. "Did von Karma pull the bullet out by himself!? That's insane!"

"No… he couldn't have," Wright replied. "You can't just pull bullets out of yourself!"

_Then...?_

"Tsk tsk tsk…" von Karma chuckled. "Well, Mr. Wright! Can you produce evidence to prove that I was shot?"

Wright hit his desk. "Alright, von Karma, I'll prove it," he said. "And I'll even use evidence… I know how you like it so much."

"Wh-what!?"

"The evidence that proves von Karma was shot is…! Take that! Von Karma is perfect… He wouldn't risk surgery, leaving an evidence trail. So then, I ask, where is that bullet now? I think it unlikely that von Karma performed surgery on himself!"

"You… you don't mean!" the judge stammered. Wright nodded.

"I do." He banged on his desk. "There is the possibility that the bullet is still inside von Karma!"

The court filled with noise. The judge banged his gavel.

"I-is that even possible?" he asked. "For all these years!?"

"Well, there's one way to find out." Wright took a metal detector out of his bag. "We could use this metal detector! Well, von Karma? I'm going to run this over you, and see what we find."

"Objection!" von Karma shouted. He was sweating. He looked nervous.

_He DID do it! Von Karma… You deserve a punishment that could not even be found in Hell!_

"I… refuse!" von Karma spat.

"Y-you refuse…!?" the judge asked. "But, refusing this means… You acknowledge that the bullet is still inside you?"

The gallery started up again. The judge silenced them somewhat with his gavel and three shouts of "Order!"

Wright slammed on his desk. "Your Honor!" he called. "The defense requests that we be allowed to use the metal detector!"

"Objection!" von Karma screamed. "Judge! I call for a suspension of this trial! This is an invasion of privacy!"

"Objection! The statute of limitations runs out on this case today!" He hit his desk. "It was you who said we had to end it right here, right now!"

"Mm… mmmph!"

The judge whacked his gavel. "Enough!" he barked. "I permit the use of the metal detector. Mr. von Karma, you will submit yourself to testing!"

Maya said something to Wright. Wright said something in response.

The bailiff took the metal detector and ran it over von Karma. Near von Karma's right shoulder, it went off loudly.

_There is something in there! It must be the bullet!_

"Mr. von Karma…?" Wright called.

"You!" Miles growled. "It was you!"

"…I was afraid this would happen," von Karma said. "And so, I remained silent."

_What do you have up your sleeve now, beast!?_

"Indeed, there is a bullet in my shoulder," von Karma continued. "However… it has nothing to do with this incident!"

"What!?" Wright snapped.

"I was shot in the shoulder long before the DL-6 Incident!" Von Karma snapped his fingers. "I claim that the bullet in my shoulder has no relation to DL-6!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"B-but, Mr. von Karma!" he stammered. "Can you prove that?"

"'Prove'?" he repeated. He wagged his finger at the judge, an evil grin plastered on his face. "I have no obligation to prove anything! It is you who must prove something here, Mr. Wright! Not I."

"M-Mr. Wright? Well? Can you prove it? Can you prove that the bullet in von Karma's shoulder was from DL-6?"

"Of course he can't!"

_Liar! All we need is the bullet from the victim's heart! If its ballistic markings match those of your bullet, you're the killer!_

"You don't have any of the DL-6 evidence!" he taunted. He wagged his finger at Wright. "With no proof, you cannot convict me of any crime! So sorry, Mr. Wright."

Wright shook his head. "No… I'm the one who's sorry, Mr. von Karma," he taunted back.

"Wh-what!?"

"You were close… one day away from freedom." He pointed at von Karma. "You see… I have proof!"

"Wh-what!?"

"Who would have thought you would have dug your own grave trying to convict Edgeworth! I can link that bullet in your shoulder to the DL-6 Incident…" He slammed his desk and pointed at von Karma. "And here's my final proof! Take that!" Wright took out an evidence bag with a bullet in it.

"Th-that's…" the judge stuttered. "A bullet?"

"Where did you get that!?" von Karma demanded.

"This is the bullet used in the DL-6 Incident," Wright explained. "This was taken from the heart of the victim, Mr. Gregory Edgeworth." Wright pounded on his desk. "The bullet is preserved quite nicely, with all the ballistic markings intact."

"Ballistic markings…" Miles muttered.

"You may recall the term. It came up in the first trial, two days ago. We have two bullets in our possession. One, the bullet removed from Gregory Edgeworth's heart. The other, Mr. von Karma, is the bullet buried in your shoulder. We could analyze both bullets… Then, it the markings matched…" Wright slammed on his desk. "We would know that both bullets had been fired from the same gun! The very same pistol… in other words, the murder weapon that killed Gregory Edgeworth!"

"Mmmph… mmmph!" von Karma spat.

"Mr. von Karma? You will let us remove the bullet from your shoulder. Then we'll compare the ballistic markings to those on this bullet…" Wright hit his desk. "And solve this case once and for all! Well, Mr. von Karma!?"

"Mmmrrrrrrgggh! Uuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! Uuaaaaarrrr… aaa …oooh. Wooooooorgh… aaa… oooooh…"

_It's over… Finally, it's really over…_

Miles looked as though the entire disaster had come back full force in his memory. "It's that scream I heard in the elevator!" he gasped. "Fifteen years ago…" He pointed accusingly at von Karma, his face an effigy of hatred. "Von Karma!" he roared. "It was you who screamed!"

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge banged his gavel to restore order.

"Mr. von Karma?" he called.

"Wooorrrrrooooooggggh…." the villain wailed. "Ehhh… Edgewoooooth……. Ehhh… Edgewooooorth… Only… you would… dare… defy me…!"

"So… it was you!" Miles shouted through gritted teeth.

Von Karma grabbed onto the wall behind him and began slamming his head against it. "You an your father are my curse!" he hissed. "Your father shamed me with a penalty on my record! And you… you left a scar on my shoulder that would never fade!" He hit his head harder, more rapidly. "I... I'll bury you! I'll bury you with my bare hands! Death! Death!

"It was a shock like none I had ever known. Me? Penalized!? It took hours for me to regain my composure. Suddenly, I found myself in the darkness… I was in the court records room. I must have wandered in there without thinking where I was going. The room was pitch black. The lights must have gone out. I went out in the hall and felt my way to the elevator. I pressed the button, and nothing happened. Then… there was a noise!

"I was in pain! A horrible, burning pain in my shoulder! Just then, the lights came back on. The elevator door opened before my eyes. I saw three people inside, all lying unconscious from oxygen deprivation. Much to my surprise, a pistol lay at my feet. I knew then… it was destiny. In his last moments, Gregory Edgeworth was still unconscious. He died, never knowing who had shot him Later, he spoke through a medium, blaming Mr. Yogi. He was fooled! It was the perfect crime!

"Tsk tsk tsk… Who would have thought another man would come to open that elevator door?" He snapped his fingers. "Judge!"

"Wh-what?" the judge blabbered, shocked by the sudden end to von Karma's tale.

"What are you doing!? Do your job! Bring an end to this miserable charade! Now! End it!"

"V-very well." He whacked his gavel. "It appears that we have come a very long way to the end of this maze. Fifteen years later… Mr. Miles Edgeworth?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Miles said.

"You were innocent. You are innocent. As you said, it was all a 'nightmare.'"

"Yes, Your Honor."

The judge banged his gavel again. "This court finds the defendant, Mr. Miles Edgeworth… not guilty."

It was over. Miles's trip through Hell was over. He was free.

"That is all," the judge said after banging his gavel again. "The court is adjourned!"

* * *

Lana stood at the door to Miles's office the next day. She heard music coming from the other side. She listened.

_Поднялася с полуночи… _a tenor voice cried out. A men's chorus joined in.

_Поднялася с полуночи_

_дружинушка хрестьянская_

_молилася, крестилася,_

_молилася, крестилася,_

_на смертный бой готовилась._

_Прости, прощай, родная весь,_

_прости, прощай, родная весь!_

_Не плачь же ты, семеюшка:_

_нам смерть в бою написана,_

_нам смерть в бою написана,_

_а мёртвому сорома нет._

_Нам смерть в бою написана…_

_Нам смерть в бою…_

Lana knocked on the door.

"I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone," Miles said from behind it.

"Not even to me?" Lana asked. She had decided beforehand that if she was going to talk to him, she would have to be herself, not Ms. Skye. As such, concern poured from her lips.

"Not even you."

Lana sighed. "Is this how you're going to be when we're married, too? We've been through this before. You're not invincible."

"I'm fine."

"No you're not, Miles. You sound as if you're going to cry."

"Everything's okay now. I'm free."

"Miles, your voice is breaking."

"I said I'm fine."

"You saw me during the trial, didn't you? I was so worried…"

"I saw you."

"I even cried a few times. Even though I did all I could to contain my emotions, they broke out a few times."

"I saw signs of it."

Lana waited for Miles to say more. All she heard was his music, though.

"Don't you trust me?" she pleaded.

No response.

Lana sighed again. "Miles, if you can't even trust someone who agreed to marry you, who can you trust? Do you really want to keep all your thoughts to yourself?" She closed her eyes. "You can trust me, Miles. I may not be worthy of your trust as a co-worker, but what about as your fiancée? Yes, I broke it off, but I still think of you as the gentleman I'm going to marry. …I believe in you, Miles. I know you're a wonderful person on the inside, so please show that side of yourself to me."

No response.

"…I see. You still think you need to handle everything alone. Do you really want that? There's no shame in needing help. I'm here for you." She sighed again. "And, frankly, I need proof that you're fine. I'm not going to stop worrying until I'm sure. Closing yourself off from me like this just makes me more convinced that you need help."

_Is this how Ema feels? Whenever she needs me, I close myself off. She must be worried about me…_

Miles's music stopped. Lana heard the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. The instant Miles opened the door Lana threw herself into his arms.

"You need to stop being this way," Lana said, still holding onto Miles. "I'm not marrying Miles von Karma."

Lana felt Miles's arms tighten around her. She felt something touch her ear. Tears. Miles's tears. She could feel his broken breathing. He was crying.

"Please, let it out," Lana continued. "The only weak thing to do here is keep it all pent up inside. I'm here for you."

Lana closed her eyes and held onto Miles. He needed someone to trust, someone he could turn to when he couldn't handle everything on his own. Lana recalled that the door to the office was still open. She tried to move to close it, but Miles wouldn't let go. With a small sigh through her nose, she decided to ignore it. She tightened her embrace.

"Whenever you need someone, I'll be there for you," Lana said, closing her eyes again.


	22. Part I, Chapter 21: Following Orders

**Chapter 21—Following Orders**

February 22, 2017 and February 23, 2017

Miles walked into the Detention Center. He managed to carve his face in stone as he approached the guard. The guard saluted.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Edgeworth, sir, but I've been told not to let visitors in, sir!" he said.

"By who?" Miles asked. "I'd think it's fairly important that the prosecutor get information from the defendant."

"The Chief Prosecutor told me to keep visitors out, sir!"

"I need to speak with the defendant. This case is under a great deal of scrutiny; it's critical that the right verdict be given."

"But, sir—"

"I'd suggest you allow me to speak with Ms. Skye. As things stand, she does not have the authority to interfere with your salary. I do, however. You can be certain that your salary will drop lower than that of Detective Gumshoe if you give me any trouble."

The guard gulped. "Y-yessir." He opened the door.

"I thought I said I wanted no visitors," Lana's voice said from in the visiting room. She had her back to the visitors' half of the room.

"Not even me?" Miles replied.

There was no response. Miles walked in and seated himself across from Lana.

"What happened?" Miles asked.

"I killed Detective Goodman."

"Do you expect me to believe that, Lana? My love for you isn't the only thing telling me there's more to this than meets the eye."

"There's nothing more to this case. I stabbed Bruce Goodman in the Prosecutor's Office parking lot and left the body in your car to frame you. I was caught, and so I'm here instead of you."

"Liar. Do you forget how much we've been through? You would never kill someone, let alone frame me for it."

"Well, I did, so you're wrong."

Miles closed his eyes.

"Why don't you trust me?" Miles asked. "That armor of yours doesn't hide the white wings under it… not from me."

Lana turned around to face Miles.

"I trust you, Miles. However, the truth is that I killed Goodman. As the killer, I must accept my punishment."

Miles said nothing.

_It must be him…_

"You'd accept death just to protect Ema?"

"I never said Ema had anything to do with this."

"The fact that you're in this mess tells all, Lana. As things stand, you have no motive. I can only think of two possibilities. The first is that you're innocent, but you're taking the fall anyway because your blackmailer ordered it. The other possibility is that your blackmailer ordered you to kill Goodman. Either way, your blackmailer is a criminal and must be punished for it."

"My blackmailer is not involved. I stabbed Goodman. I don't need a reason."

"I don't believe that for a second. What's going on, Lana? I want answers!"

"I gave you the answer! Just leave it at that!"

Miles gritted his teeth. "So you're going to keep silent? So be it. There's another way for me to get the truth out of you."

"What are you going to do? Blackmail me?"

"I took this case specifically because I need to know the answer… and because I love you. I'm not letting you go to prison unless I know for certain that you're guilty."

"I am. And you're right. I had a motive. My blackmailer ordered me to stab Goodman. But for my sake, to honor my memory… Please don't hunt him down."

"No," Miles said.

"What?"

"If what you're saying is true, then your blackmailer is also guilty. Even if you're going to die for your involvement in this, I am going to drag that demon down with you. He deprived me your hand in marriage, and he will ultimately deprive you of your life. I will not let such actions go unpunished, no matter what you say."

Lana was silent for a moment. She turned around and faced away from Miles.

"Very well," she said. "You know what you must do. Prove me guilty; for killing a fellow human being, I deserve to die."

"I'll see you in court, my love," Miles said as he got up and left. Lana did not respond.

_If this is the case, you will be found guilty, Lana. But what if it isn't? Even if you're willing to die to protect Ema, I will not allow you to if you're innocent. If you're innocent, I will make sure you're acquitted. And your blackmailer… Regardless of your role in this case, I will have my revenge on him. For myself, for you, and for Ema, I will make sure your blackmailer suffers for his actions._

* * *

Miles returned to the Prosecutor's Office, determined to find the truth. He had an enemy, and he would not rest until that enemy was defeated. Jake Marshall had been put in charge of the investigation. He and his subordinates were mostly just lazing around. Angel Starr was also there, selling lunches again. She noticed Miles and changed her scowl into a "May I take your order?" smile.

"Can I interest you in General Tso's Trilobite lunch set?" she asked, taking out a lunchbox.

"I prefer meat that died after the dinosaurs were extinct," Miles replied. He walked over to the elevators and rode one up to the twelfth floor. His office was not too far from the elevator. He heard voices from inside.

_I could have sworn I locked the door…_

He saw a familiar cheap blue suit and spiky hair standing part-way in the doorway: Wright.

"Look, look!" a young feminine voice chirped from inside the office. "There's a trophy or something here! It takes real nerve to display stuff like this. Whoever's office this is, he must be a real stuck-up jerk!"

"Mr. Phoenix Wright…" Miles greeted. "You never tire of prying into other people's business, do you?" Wright turned and saw Miles, who walked into his office. The girl with Wright looked around sixteen. She had a lab coat on.

_I know I've seen that girl before…_

"Long time, no see, Edgeworth," Wright said.

"Huh?" the girl yelped. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! M-M-Mr. Edgeworth!"

_I thought I knew her from somewhere._

"You know him from somewhere?" Wright asked the girl.

"O-of course!" the girl replied. "I'm his biggest fan! My sister introduced us once, and…"

_Her sister? Wait… Ema?_

"Well?" Miles cut in. "What brings you here?" He smirked, glaring at the girl, slightly amused. "I'll warn you… I've been known to be a real stuck-up jerk…"

"N-no!" the girl stuttered. "Did I…? No! It was just, Mr. Wright here, he…"

"Hey!" Wright snapped. "Don't blame me!"

"W-we're just here to investigate a murder case!" the girl continued.

"Murder…?" Miles asked. _Just my luck…_

"A body was found in this nasty, bright red sports car in the parking lot…"

"Hmm? That would be my car. What of it?"

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaa!? Y-y-y-your car!?"

_My ears…_

"So, the body was found in your car?" Wright asked.

"Go ahead, say it, Wright," Miles said. "You think I did it, don't you? After you went through all that trouble to help me last year, no less."

"N-no, we don't think you did it!" the girl stammered. "I mean, it was my sister who stabbed him… Uh, wait, no, she didn't do that! I mean…"

_Oh, dear…_

"Wait…" Miles said. "So you're the Chief Prosecutor's little sister, then?"

"Y-yes, sir!" she chirped. "Ema Skye! It, uh…" She paused. "It's nice to meet you again!"

The image of Ema during SL-9 returned to Miles in full.

"Ah, now I remember," Miles commented. "You've… really grown." He looked to Wright. "I'll admit, it was a surprise to me, too. To think that my own car would become the scene of a murder. More surprising still… Now I'm forced to prove my superior's guilt." _In front of Ema, no less…_

"I can understand…" Wright agreed. "W-wait!… What did you say!?"

"Lana Skye is the Chief Prosecutor… the top prosecutor in the district. She can't prosecute herself, so I'll be the prosecutor at the trial tomorrow."

"You!?" Ema almost cried. She looked down at the floor. "Mr. Edgeworth…"

_Best to keep my feelings for Lana out of this, or these two won't let me hear the end of it._

Wright reached into his coat pocket and took out a picture of Lana.

"Chief Prosecutor Skye?" Miles replied. _You could have just asked instead of bothering with a picture, Wright…_ "Yes… We first worked together on a case two years ago. It was my first big case."

"That's right, I remember," Ema added, still downcast.

"Since then, I always felt that she was looking out for me… It appears I was mistaken."

"M-mistaken!? Why? I mean, I know she's not the warmest person… But I'm sure she felt some responsibility for you!"

"Then… why? Why did she stab someone in the trunk of my car? Not only that… She stabbed him with my knife."

"Wha… Whaaaaaat!?" Ema screamed. "Mr. Edgeworth! Your knife was the murder weapon!?"

"To be specific, it was the knife kept in the toolbox in the trunk of my car."

_How could she have even known the knife was there? It's not as if I showed it to her…_

"Um… Edgeworth?" Wright asked.

"What?" Miles replied.

"Are you sure you didn't do it?"

Miles said nothing, but he glared at Wright, whose face shifted into a stupid grin.

"You have a strange sense of humor, Mr. Wright!" Ema scolded.

"To be honest…" Miles continued. "It's a bit of a miracle I'm still here at all."

"What do you mean?" Wright asked, his grin gone.

"Rumors. You've heard the rumors about me, haven't you?"

Wright's eyes closed briefly.

"Thanks to you," Miles continued, "my innocence was established in the trial at the end of last year. However, there are some who say I'm the one responsible for the current incident."_ Though I would never sit by and let Lana die for a crime I committed…_

"Wh-what?" Wright yelped. "That's crazy!"

"Hmph. Some people need very little excuse to think ill of others. It's a fact of life. Impossible to stop."

"But…" Ema whimpered.

"Some of them even go so far as to present me with toys like this…" Miles added, indicating the King of Prosecutors trophy he had received on the day of the crime. "They think it's funny."

Wright looked at the trophy.

"I've been wondering…" he commented, "what the heck is this?"

"It has a big 'K' on it," Ema said.

"King of Prosecutors," Miles mumbled.

"Huh?" Wright asked. "What's that?"

"It's the 'King of Prosecutors' trophy."

"K-K-K…" Ema stammered. "'King of Prosecutors'!?"

"It's a great honor. They send that shield to the best prosecutor each year." He noticed a smirk crossing Wright's face. "What! So?"

"So that 'K'… that's…" Wright trailed off.

"'K' stands for 'King'?" Ema finished.

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?" Miles snapped. "I didn't design the thing!"

"'King of Prosecutors'… Kind of like 'Employee of the Month,' only better!"

"So, in other words," Wright said with a grin, "you were the best of the best this year, huh?"

"You can take that foolish grin elsewhere, Wright," Miles replied. "I lost a day of work to receive that travesty." _If I hadn't been there, I could have stopped this disaster from even happening…_

"Huh?" Ema chirped. "Why's that?"

"I had to go to the Police Department ceremony to receive that broken shield."

"The Police Department?" Wright echoed.

"Yes. Right next to the Police Station downtown. You've been there, correct?"

"Where Detective Gumshoe works? Yeah."

"Um, I was wondering something about your shield…" Ema cut in. "Why is it broken?"

"What does it matter?" Miles replied. "I've got more important things to worry about."

"Oh. Right…"

"Yesterday was a very busy day for the Prosecutor's Office."

"Maybe… we should ask him more about yesterday?"

"Could you tell me more about yesterday… the day of the murder?" Wright asked.

"Yesterday was the annual cleaning day at the Prosecutor's Office," Miles said.

"Cleaning day?" Ema repeated.

"Working with the Police Department, we sort and file all evidence for solved cases. We call it 'evidence transferal.'"

"Wiping your hands of old cases, in other words."

"Oh, and another thing… A ceremony was held at the Police Department. There's an annual review and awards for outstanding police officers and prosecutors."

"And that's when you got the shield?" Wright asked.

"I was at the police department yesterday afternoon… I got back here at 5:12."

"That's… very precise."

"People like myself and Mr. Edgeworth pride ourselves on our precision, Mr. Wright," Ema said.

"No, I place little faith in my memory," Miles said. _If only because of how much pain its deceptions have caused me._ "The only thing I trust is solid evidence," he continued, taking out the parking stub from yesterday. "This is the parking stub from the underground lot."

"So the murder happened right after you got back," Ema confirmed.

"What, Wright?" Miles asked, noticing his suspicious gaze. "I'd appreciate it if you'd direct that suspicious glare elsewhere."

"Um…!" a voice blathered. A patrolman burst in through the doors. "Excuse me! But is Mr. Edgeworth, uh… anywhere on the premises?"

"I'm Edgeworth," Miles said to the patrolman. "What is it?"

"I'm here, sir, at the request of the Chief, sir! I've got your report, sir!"

"Report? What? Did you find new evidence in the case against Chief Prosecutor Skye!?" Miles was glaring at the patrolman. _Maybe there's something that proves Lana's innocence…_

"Er… Skye, sir?" the patrolman replied, confused. He then saluted. "No, sir! No name of that kind, sir! Not in this report, sir!"

_WHAT!? Then why are you wasting my time!?_

"Mr. Edgeworth's lid isn't on very tight, is it?" Ema commented.

"I made a clear request to the Police Department, did I not?" Miles exploded. "I need to focus on the trial tomorrow, so don't bring me anything unrelated!"

"Sir!" the patrolman yelped. "But, but sir! I'm just following orders, sir! They told me to bring this to you! I wasn't aware of the peculiars of your arrangement with us, sir—"

"Give me your name!"

"U-uh, yes… yes, sir! M-M-Meekins, sir. Officer Meekins!"

"Right. Officer Meekins? Take your report and leave. And good luck with that raise next month."

"B-but, sir, I d-didn't know!" Meekins whimpered. Meekins left, crestfallen.

"Wright," Miles said.

"Y-yes, sir!?" Wright replied, caught off-guard by the shift of focus.

"As you can see, I'm busy. You may leave now."

"L-let's do what he says, Mr. Wright!" Ema agreed.

"The victim was a detective from the same department as that patrolman just now. Go down to the Police Department. You can ask more there."

"U-uh… Thanks," Wright said, leaving. Ema followed.

_Wright… So you're defending Lana? Good; I know I can trust you. After what you did for me last year, I know that if Lana's innocent, you'll prove it. If she's guilty, I will prove it, but not before I know the truth._

* * *

Wright took his position at the defense bench. Ema took the same position as Maya. Miles found that his eyes were often moving in Lana's direction. She had her usual expression on her face—none. Judge Clous banged his gavel.

"The court is now in session for the trial of Ms. Lana Skye," he said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said.

"The prosecution has been ready for a while, Your Honor," Miles said.

_And so it begins. Wright, I entrust Lana's fate to you. If she's innocent, prove it._

"I hope personal feelings will not be a part of the proceedings today, Mr. Wright," Miles said, partially to himself and partially to Wright. "I will choose the path I think is right, regardless of what those around me might say. The judgment to be made here is in our hands, not those of anyone else."

"Very well, Mr. Edgeworth, your opening statement please," the judge said.

_Flush it out, Miles. Lana's no longer anyone important; she's just the defendant._

"Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye has committed an unpardonable crime. Not only this, but she was rash enough to commit it in the Prosecutor's Office lot!"

"Wow…" Ema commented. "He's much more forceful in person. I suddenly feel like confessing to everything!"

"However," Miles continued, "she will now pay for her rashness with her life. There was a witness to her crime… A 'professional' witness!"

The judge banged his gavel.

"Well then, call your first witness, Mr. Edgeworth!" he said.

"The prosecution calls its first witness, Ms. Angel Starr, to the stand."

Starr took the stand. She had a full basket of lunchboxes hanging on her right arm.

"Hmm?" the judge chirped. "Haven't I seen you somewhere…?"

Starr took a lunchbox out of her basket. "You ordered the Caviar Lunch, right?" she said.

"Ho ho! Caviar! I've never eaten caviar before!"

_Great…_

"Ah, and for you…" Starr added, taking out another lunchbox, "I have a Fiesta Bowl."

"Uh… thanks," Wright said, sweating.

"Will the witness state her name and profession?" Miles requested, hoping to restore order.

"Ah, and you, sir…" Starr said. "Did you order 'The Fingerprint' lunchbox?"

"It is too early for lunch. Your name and profession, please."

Starr was silent for a moment. "Well, Your Honor? How does it taste?"

"So this is why everyone raves about caviar!" the judge commented. "It's so tasty it hurts! I always thought caviar would taste like pickled tapioca."

_I guess I can't rely on the judge here…_

Miles slammed his desk. "Name," he barked. "Profession. Now."

"Me?" Starr replied. "The name is Angel Starr. Don't go forgetting it."

_I would definitely like to…_

"I find myself running Lunchland these days," she continued. "Is… that what you wanted me to say, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Very well, witness," Miles replied. "Please describe the incident to us."

"The prosecution will wait!" the judge interrupted. "I'm not finished eating…"

_Innocent or guilty, this is one case I will soon want to forget…_

The judge swallowed. "Mmmm…" he mumbled. "Very well, Mr. Edgeworth. As you know, we usually call on the police to provide a description of the crime…"

"Your Honor," Starr replied, "as Mr. Edgeworth has said to the court… I am a… 'professional.'"

"Uh… Huh? What exactly does that mean?"

"Until two years ago," Miles said, reading a file on Starr's time as a detective, "Ms. Angel Starr was a special investigator with the police. She was a first-rate homicide detective." _And a first-rate flirt…_

"Wh-whaaaat!?" Ema almost screamed. "Ms. Starr was a detective!?"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-hah!" the judge bellowed, remembering. "I-I know who you are!! Cough-up…!?"

"Cough-up Queen Angel Starr, Your Honor," Starr said. "Long time no see."

The judge whacked his gavel.

"V-v-very well! Y-you may continue with the description, Ms. Starr!"

"If I might have the court's attention over here…" Ms. Starr said, indicating a map of the crime scene Miles had given her. "The parking lot at the Prosecutor's Office is divided into two blocks. A Block is for the Prosecutor's Office personnel. B Block is for visitors and clients… A chain divider separates the two blocks."

"I suppose that's to keep visitors from taking up prosecutor's spaces, yes."

"The crime took place by a car in the back of A Block, in the car's trunk. The killer stabbed the victim with a knife and went to drive the body out. Unfortunately for her there was a witness, and an arrest was made on the spot."

"And who was this valiant 'witness'…?"

"Why, it was me, Your Honor."

"Witness, did you see the very moment of the crime?"

"Of course, Your Honor. Immediately after that, I apprehended the Chief Prosecutor."

"Hmm… It seems rather cut and dry, doesn't it? Well, Mr. Wright?"

"Uh… I can't agree on principle, Your Honor," Wright said, sweating.

"It seems that some poor losers are unwilling to accept the truth, Your Honor," Starr said. "Shall I proceed to crush what little hope they have remaining?"

"If you can…" the judge said. "Then give them your worst, Ms. Starr!"

_Poor Wright…_

"Somehow, I always knew a day like this would come," Starr said. "I was on my way to deliver a lunchbox to my boyfriend…"

_Which one?_

"When I sensed something…" Starr continued, "perhaps it was my finely-honed detective instincts working. Then, through a wire fence, I saw the Chief Prosecutor standing next to a garish car."

_Garish!? My car's beautiful!_

"The chief prosecutor was holding a knife in her right hand… Then, she thrust the pointy tip of the knife into Detective Goodman's chest!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Bringing a lunchbox to your boyfriend? How touching!"

"Hmph," Miles huffed. "As you can see… There is no room for doubt."

_At least, with her testimony as is…_

"The key 'point' of your testimony seems to be nothing other than the point of the knife which you saw being stabbed into Detective Goodman!" the judge said.

"So…" Starr teased, "how does it feel to be so utterly crushed?"

"I… I'm still thinking about that," Wright replied, sweating.

"I-it's merely a flesh wound, Mr. Wright!" Ema encouraged.

"Very well, Mr. Wright," the judge said. "You may cross-examine the witness."

"Somehow, I always knew a day like this would come," Starr repeated.

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "How did you know!?"

"I respect the prosecutors' basic abhorrence of crime. Yet their methods are ugly and twisted. Twisted methods will always lead to tragedy."

Miles took a bow. "The lunchlady's uninformed opinion is duly noted," he said.

"Given that they are used to erasing inconvenient evidence at their whim…" She tossed her head and stared at Wright. "Killing off a detective that knew too much is merely an extension of that."

_Defense attorneys make plenty of personal attacks on me, but this is the first time a witness has done it…_

"Ms. Starr…" Ema cut in, "do you have something personal against prosecutors?"

"I felt that I had found my dream job when I became an investigator…" Starr said. "And if I hadn't been laid off by those prosecutors over there, I'd still be one."

"Laid off…?" Wright asked.

_Come to think of it, why was she dismissed?_

"To me, prosecutors are nothing more than worms," Starr said. "That said, I am a pro, as you know. My testimony is unbiased… and flawless."

_She may not be, but her testimony seems that way._

"Very well," the judge said. "You may continue, Ms. Starr."

"I was on my way to deliver a lunchbox to my boyfriend… When I sensed something… perhaps it was my finely-honed detective instincts working. Then, through a wire fence, I saw the Chief Prosecutor standing next to a garish car."

"Hold it!" Wright barked. "By 'garish car,' you mean…"

"Mr. Edgeworth's car, yes."

"M-Mr. Edgeworth's!?" the judge confirmed.

"Incidentally, the knife with which the victim was stabbed was also Mr. Edgeworth's. Wasn't it?"

_I can't say I care for your opinion of prosecutors, but you're right._

"Indeed, it was," Miles said.

The gallery started up, but didn't need a whack of the gavel to quiet down.

"Hmm!" the judge hummed. "What an odd case this is. And the person you saw… you are sure it was the defendant?"

"I saw her from no further than thirty feet away," Starr responded. "I am certain it was her."

"Let's just do what we can!" Ema said to Wright. "Even if we don't have any proof, we can always complain!"

Wright banged on his desk.

"Witness!" he called. "In your testimony, you clearly stated the following: Prosecutors are nothing more than worms. Ergo!" He pointed at Starr. "You are a biased witness!"

"You might want to keep those silly opinions to YOURSELF in the future, rookie," Starr replied.

"Huh? Rookie?"

"Unless you're willing to risk the consequences of doubting me? I'll fry you like a fritter! Crispy on the outside… chewy on the inside!!"

"That… That was inspiring!" the judge commented.

"I believe I've heard that tag line elsewhere…" Ema commented, writing it in her notebook, "you could cry plagiarism?"

"I may be relegated to the lowly post of lunchlady…" Starr continued. "But my instincts are honed!" She held out a photograph. Miles could recognize the face in it easily: Lana.

"A-a photograph!" the judge exclaimed. "You took this!?"

"The moment I witnessed the crime, my reflexes took over and snap! I took a picture! In fact…" She paused and took out a lunchbox. "One of my lunchboxes is rigged with a camera.

"Er… this is my first time seeing this photograph," Miles said.

"You think I'd show it to you, a prosecutor? Think again."

_Do you really think I'd get rid of that photo just to save Lana?_ Miles took a closer look at the picture. _Wait… Why isn't Lana wearing her scarf in this picture? I can't remember the last time I saw her without that radiant scarf…_

"My boyfriend works in the photography division of Criminal Affairs," Starr continued.

"Well…" the judge said. "This is most certainly the defendant!"

"So, what was the defendant doing at the time?" Miles asked, hoping to return to the cross-examination.

"The chief prosecutor was holding a knife in her right hand…" Starr said.

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "And you witnessed this? You saw Ms. Skye stab the victim with the knife?"

"As I've already said, yes!" Starr took out another lunchbox. "I swear it on my finest 'Salmon Swirl' lunch!"

_These lunches are getting very trite…_

"Hmm!!" the judge mumbled, tempted. "I'm sure that is a fine lunch!"

"But… isn't that odd?" Wright asked. "Look at this photograph! This is the photograph you took of the very moment of the crime, is it not? Then why is Ms. Skye not holding a knife!?"

_Because the knife is already in the victim, Wright. And here I was hoping you actually had something there…_

"Ahem," the judge said after a pause. "Mr. Edgeworth, your thoughts?"

"Objection," Miles replied calmly.

"Let's be a little more careful with our evidence, shall we?" Wright requested, sweating.

"It is you that needs to be more careful, Mr. Wright!"

"What do you mean, Mr. Edgeworth?" the judge asked.

"This photograph was not taken the moment before the stabbing… This was taken the moment AFTER the stabbing!"

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "H-how can you tell that!?"

"Blood splatter," Starr replied.

"Huh?"

"See the dark crimson stain on the Chief Prosecutor's coat?"

_I see a stain, but you can't know its color from a black-and-white picture…_

"Ah…" the judge said, "yes, it's hard to tell, but this could be blood."

"Well, Mr. Wright?" Miles taunted. "I see no problem here. No problem… except you."

"Mr. Wright!" Ema scolded. "Are you going to just sit there and take that kind of abuse!?"

Wright slammed his desk. "Wait!" he barked. "That contradicts what the witness said in her testimony! Namely, that she took the picture the 'moment' she witnessed the crime!"

"Well, it seems I was slightly unclear," Starr said. She smiled flirtatiously. "My apologies."

There was a pause.

"Th-that's it!?" Wright snapped.

"If you run out of lunch, you order seconds," Starr stated. "Problem solved! If you don't like it, try ordering the jumbo-sized lunch from the get-go!"

"Good advice…" Ema commented. "I'm not sure I understood it, but… good advice."

"I didn't have time to stop her. Prosecutor Skye was cold, calculating, like a robot. She killed without pain or remorse! It was a premeditated murder!"

_Objection!_

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "P-premeditated!? How do you know!?"

"Look at the Chief Prosecutor's hands in that photograph," Miles said.

"Well…!" The judge commented. "Are those… gloves?"

"Surgical gloves made of thin rubber, most likely. Why would she have those on?"

"Uh…" Wright trailed off, knowing what was next.

Miles hit his desk. "If it was not premeditated, she would not be wearing those gloves!"

"Waaaaaargh!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

_Though I can't help but wonder…_

"These gloves do seem to tell a tale of premeditation!" the judge agreed.

"Premeditated murder… a serious offense," Starr said.

"Witness! Add this to your testimony!"

"The murder was planned!" Starr testified. "The rubber gloves prove it!"

"Objection!" Wright yelled. "Witness, do you know what this is?" He indicated Miles's knife.

"Are you trying to test me? I sell box lunches for a living, you know. That's a knife. THE knife. The knife that was in Mr. Edgeworth's trunk!"

"Indeed, it is my knife," Miles said.

The gallery started up.

"What's with this case!?" one voice demanded.

"The bloody murder weapon, a red car… all belonging to the prosecutor there!?" another said.

"The defendant is the chief prosecutor for the district, right?"

"Mommy, are prosecutors bad people?" a child's voice asked.

_What are children doing at a murder trial?_

Wright hit his desk.

"The defense has a request," he said. "We ask that the witness provide an ACCURATE testimony."

"What's that, Rookie?" Starr taunted.

"In your testimony… You stated that Lana Skye planned this murder. And that's why she was wearing those special gloves."

"Seems like a natural conclusion to me!" the judge said. "The gloves do indicate planning…"

"However! Why would she not also prepare the most important thing… the murder weapon!?"

"Oh," Starr growled.

"This knife just happened to be in the trunk of that car." Wright banged on his desk. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you're going to plan a murder, you don't forget the weapon!"

"Ugh… Woooooooorrrgh!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"Order!" he barked. "Order! Order!"

The expression on Wright's face told Miles he was overplaying his little victory.

"Great show, Mr. Wright!" Ema chirped. "My sister's as good as free!"

Miles did his "evil smile."

"Wright," he said. "I believe the next lunch you'll be eating is… humble pie!"

"W-what!?" Wright stammered.

"I hope you weren't deluding yourself into thinking that the 'tide has turned.' Not over such a trifling detail!"

"B-but this shoots a hole in the whole premeditated theory!"

"Bah! The prosecution could care less if it was premeditated or not." Miles pointed at Starr. "The only one who seems to care is that lunchlady over there. The defendant, Lana Skye, murdered a detective with a knife. That is the only thing the prosecution need prove. Nothing else."

"Very good, Mr. Prosecutor…" Starr hissed. "I suppose you think you're clever now? But you know as well as I do that she planned on killing him! It was planned! If it wasn't why would she have been wearing…"

The judge's gavel cut her off.

"I believe I'd like to hear your testimony again," the judge said.

"Witness, please tell us only what you 'saw,' not what you 'thought,'" Miles said.

"How dare you!" Starr replied. "My powers of deduction are not to be underestimated!"

_Well, there's plenty of room for overestimating._

"Lana Skye intended to murder Detective Goodman!" Starr testified. "That's why she called the victim all the way to the Prosecutor's Office. I'm sure the Chief Prosecutor had a grudge against the victim. Nothing else could drive that human machine to plunge the knife in again and again…"

"The victim was summoned from the Police Department to the Prosecutor's Office…" the judge said. "It does sound a lot like premeditation, doesn't it!?"

"So, if I order pizza, does that mean I'm planning to kill the delivery boy?" Ema commented.

"In any case, the defense may now cross-examine the witness."

_Child's play…_

"You say she stabbed him again and again…" Wright said. "but you couldn't have witnessed that!"

"Are you testing me…?" Starr teased. "Then I'll test you!" She took out a lunchbox. "With my Moss Surprise!!"

"I'm afraid the moss is growing under our feet as we wait, Ms. Starr," Miles said.

Starr glared at Miles.

"W-what do you mean?" the judge asked.

"I shouldn't have to explain this…" Miles paused to open up the autopsy report. "But, take a look. The autopsy report states that death was due to a loss of blood… from one stab wound."

"Ah hah! You're right! Good show, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"What a hunk!" Ema chirped. "He's my hero, really!"

Wright had an annoyed look on his face.

_Sorry about stealing your spotlight there, Wright._

"Well, witness?" the judge asked.

Starr took out another lunchbox. "You got the Crime Scene Set, right?" she asked.

"Uh… oh, thanks."

"I always believed that no one could ever mistake ketchup for blood… But now, I realize that such mistakes are possible."

"So…" Miles said. "You're saying you mistook something… for blood?"

"When she lifted her knife, I thought I saw blood at her breast… Splattered blood from her victim! That's why I thought she must have stabbed him at least twice."

The judge banged his gavel. "Then tell us what you saw that you thought was blood!" he ordered. "Testify!"

"Her red muffler looked like blood to me… that's how ghastly the whole scene was."

"Objection!" Wright shouted, hitting his desk. "Ms. Starr! I demand an explanation…"

"Objection!" Miles barked. "The witness is clearly not suited for detective work."

"W-what!?" Starr hissed.

"The suspect was not wearing a scarf or muffler of any kind when she stabbed the victim. And you've proved it yourself!" Miles indicated the photograph Starr had taken. "With this photograph!"

"Huh? B-but that… That can't be!"

"Only a true professional could be so clueless. I'm sure you'll make a good lunchlady, have no fear."

"Hmm!" the judge hummed. "Harsh words! But good!"

"In the end, Mr. Edgeworth prevails!" Ema commented.

Wright was sweating.

"_What was my objection, chopped liver!?" You're not the only one who wants Lana to be innocent, Wright._

"B-but it was there," Starr stammered, "a scarf, no, not that, but something red! Really!"

Miles banged on his desk. "Well now, where were we?" he asked. "The witness has given us an entertaining interlude, now back to business."

"Wh-what!?"

The judge whacked his gavel.

"Very well, witness, continue your testimony," he said. "You saw the crime, and apprehended the suspect… Tell us about that."

Starr was glaring at Miles again.

_Glare all you want; it won't change anything._

"Very well," Starr said after realizing Miles was unfazed. "I do remember some things accurately, at least."

Wright looked annoyed.

_Calm down, Wright. It's not over yet._

"The most important part…?" Ema asked, reading Wright's thoughts.

"The part where your sister stabs the victim!"

"After the murder, the suspect attempted to run behind a partition off to her side," Starr said. "I quickly caught her, explained her rights to her, and arrested her on the spot. Ah yes. When I arrested her, she mentioned the muffler! That's what had me confused in my earlier testimony! The chief prosecutor made to escape, but against Angel Starr, resistance is futile!"

_This "Angel" is proving to be more of a "Devil"…_

"You are quite determined about this scarf, aren't you?" the judge commented.

"I strike like a snake and bite like a cobra! That's me. Angel Starr."

"That wasn't a very good metaphor," Wright said. "First of all, a cobra is a kind of snake."

"Don't bother with details, unless you want to get bitten!"

"N-no thanks!"

_This is a murder trial; every detail matters, Starr. You should know that._

"Note to self:" Ema said, writing in her notebook. "Attorney Wright gets bitten by snake."

"The chief prosecutor tried to resist," Starr continued, "but her efforts were in vain. She knocked my hands aside, kicked over an oil drum…"

"O-oil drum?" Wright repeated, sweating.

"Oh, she's beautiful, but deadly! A predator, this one! A leopard woman! Rowr!"

_Beautiful? Definitely. Predator? Not at all._

"Very well, Mr. Wright," the judge said. "Your cross-examination, if you will."

"So where is this 'partition' on the floor plans?" Wright asked.

"I'm sure she means this wall next to the car," Miles answered.

"She was obviously trying to hide herself," Starr said.

_Considering that she's not even five-and-a-half feet in her heels, she could, theoretically, hide behind that._

"Quite a natural thing for a criminal to do!" Starr added.

"And what did you do then?" Miles asked.

"I quickly caught her, explained her rights to her, and arrested her on the spot."

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "You say 'quickly'… were you close to the suspect?"

"As I just said! I was only 30 feet away from her the whole time."

"I'd like to see this on the floor plans, just to be safe," Wright said, taking out a copy of the floor plans. "The Lunchland car was…"

"She was a 'visitor,'" Miles said, "thus, she was parked in B Block."

"So, you witnessed the murder from… here?" Wright pointed to an empty parking space.

"That would make it about 30 feet from the car, yes," the judge said.

"Is that correct, Ms. Starr?" Wright asked.

"Y-yes, that's right," Starr answered.

"But, there was a chain link fence in front of you…?" the judge added.

"I went over it, of course."

"Amazing!" the judge exclaimed. "The Cough-up Queen, lunchlady athlete, indeed."

"It would have taken her a little time to climb over the fence," Ema said. "So she couldn't have gotten to my sister THAT fast…"

_Do your job, Wright._

"When I arrested her, she mentioned the muffler!" Starr said, restating her testimony.

"Hold it!" Wright yelled. "She mentioned the muffler? What exactly did she say?"

"If I remembered exactly, I would have told you in my testimony!"

_Why would she be talking about her scarf anyway? I know she treasures it, but…_

"Anyway," Starr continued, "all I heard her say was the word 'muffler.'"

"Just that one word?" the judge asked.

"So…" Miles cut in, "what you heard wasn't the suspect talking to you, but to someone else?"

"Yes," Starr replied. "The Chief Prosecutor was talking on her phone!"

"By phone…" Wright said, taking Lana's cell phone from his pocket, "do you mean this cell phone, discovered at the crime scene?"

"Yes, ultimately."

"Ultimately?" Miles asked.

"My memory… it's like a salmon, heading upstream, you see."

_So it's focused on mating? Knowing you, that's no surprise._

"N-no, the court doesn't see, Ms. Starr," the judge answered.

"The chief prosecutor first attempted to use the phone hanging on the wall."

"On the wall?"

"Apparently, it was out of order."

"And so she used her cell phone?"

"Indeed, the emergency phone was out of order that day," Miles said.

"Hmm. Good witnessing, witness!" The judge banged his gavel. "You should of course add this to your testimony."

"The things I do to please this rookie defense attorney," Starr commented, feigning exasperation. "She gave up trying to use the phone on the wall and just used her cell phone!"

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "Um… do you think you could restate your testimony for the court?"

"Ah hah!" the judge added. "I was going to ask the same thing!"

"I'll only say this one time, so listen close, Rookies," Starr said. "The Chief Prosecutor stabbed the victim, and ran behind the partition. Then she picked up the emergency phone on the wall, but it was out of order. So she pulled her own cell phone out of her pocket."

"And during that time, you climbed over the fence…"

"Then when I boldly grabbed her arm… The Chief Prosecutor hung up her phone!"

"And you saw her doing this?" Wright asked, a confident smile on his face.

"What is it, Mr. Wright?" Ema asked.

"Objection!" Wright shouted. He slammed his desk. "I have to conclude that you have a personal grudge against Ms. Lana Skye."

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "The witness is a former detective. Her testimony is unmarred by personal bias."

_Except for her bias against prosecutors…_

"Well, who would have thought you would be my knight in shining armor, prosecutor? You who, together with the Chief Prosecutor, kicked me out two years ago!"

_I had no role in your dismissal, Starr._

"Well, Ms. Starr…" Wright continued. "This is a fatal contradiction with your testimony… How do you explain this?"

"Hmph! I don't know what you're talking about. Mess with me… and I'll make you cough it ALL up!"

"Ahem. Let's look at the floor plans. You said you witnessed the crime from this point. However, if that's true… You couldn't possibly have seen Ms. Skye making that phone call!"

Starr started sweating.

"I believe you see what I'm getting at," Wright continued. "That emergency phone was on the back side of this partition." He slammed his desk. "If, indeed, you were in B Block… You couldn't have seen it!"

"Wha… Waaaaaaaaaaarrrgh!" Starr screamed, dropping several lunchboxes in the process. The gallery started chatting.

"Order! Order!" the judge shouted, not bothering to bang his gavel. "What is the meaning of this?"

"It's simple, Your Honor," Wright said. "She's not coughing up lunch… she's coughing up lies!!"

"Grrr!" Starr growled.

"Objection!" Miles roared. "That's quite a claim, Mr. Wright… perhaps you will allow me a question? Tell us exactly what lie this witness has told the court!"

_Hopefully, Wright's got proof that it was the stabbing._

"The witness lied about…" Wright trailed off. "She tried to use the emergency, phone… but it was out of order. What is significant about this fact? Nothing. It would be pointless for her to lie about it!"

"Pointless to lie…" the judge repeated. "I see!"

"The witness did actually see Ms. Skye use the emergency phone. In other words… Ms. Starr witnessed the crime from a different location!"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "A different location!? Now that's a pointless lie if I ever heard one!"

"Objection!" Wright barked. "Before you call my lie pointless… at least let me tell it!"

The judge whacked his gavel. "Let me ask a question to our clever wordsmith, Mr. Wright," he said. "Just where was the witness when she saw the crime!?"

Wright banged on his desk. He then indicated the security room on the floor plans. "This is the only place where she could have been," he said.

"The security guard room?"

"Indeed, the security room in the underground parking lot is well positioned…" Miles stated. "It's built on the second level, so you can see the entire lot."

"Hmm… She would have been able to see the emergency phone from there. But why there? There are many other places where she could have seen the phone."

Wright shook his head. "Not in this case, Your Honor," he said. "The witness, not being part of the Prosecutor's Office, couldn't park in A Block. The only place where she could have seen the crime and the back of the partition is here. I remember in your testimony, you said… You brought a lunch to your 'boyfriend' in the security guard room, yes?" Wright hit his desk. "Well, Ms. Starr?"

"How many years have I been getting the better of men…" Starr replied to no one.

_Way too many…_

"To think that the tables could be turned…" she continued. "Today, a man has got the better of Angel Starr!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Order!" he yelled. "Order! Witness! What have you done!? You used to be a detective! You should know better!"

"I'm not turning back," Starr insisted. "The guilty will be punished. And I'll do what I must to make sure justice prevails."

_You sound just like von Karma… And to think, you despise us prosecutors!_

"Um, Mr. Wright?" Ema asked. "Doesn't this strike you as odd? Why did Ms. Starr lie? It doesn't make sense!"

"Huh?" Wright replied, confused.

"She could have just said she saw the crime from the security guard station. It wouldn't change anything!"

"Exactly!" Miles agreed. "This photograph tells all! It was the defendant who stabbed the victim!" Miles banged on his desk. "That truth still stands!"

_As much as I hate to admit it…_

"Objection!" Wright responded. "It 'still stands'? I disagree, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Wh-what!?"

"If a witness is found to be lying, they're guilty of perjury. She knows this."

_And come to think of it, if that perjury resulted in Lana's wrongful execution, then that witness would be sentenced to death!_

"She wouldn't risk that without a good reason!" Wright continued.

The judge banged his gavel. "So, tell us what her reason was, Mr. Wright!" he demanded.

"Huh? M-me?"

"Who else!?"

"Mr. Wright!" Ema called. "Let's review what we know!"

Wright looked over the floor plans, thinking.

_What does it change? If she's willing to risk her own life, it must affect something!_

Wright hit his desk. "It changes the distance between her and the scene of the crime!" he shouted.

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "My condolences, Mr. Wright… But one look at the floor plans and it's quite clear. The distance between the scene of the crime and the guard station is 30 feet. I don't see how that would change what she would see."

"Objection!" Wright countered. "What she saw is not in question here. What matters is the time it would take her to reach the scene of the crime!"

_Of course! How could I have been so stupid!?_

"Ms. Starr!" Wright called. "You witnessed the crime from the security guard station! Now, how long did it take you to go from there… to the scene of the crime, where you arrested Ms. Skye!?"

Starr said nothing.

"Well, witness?" the judge requested.

"You…" Starr said.

"Y-yes…?" Wright replied. Starr took out a lunchbox.

"You ordered the Squid Wheels, right? I was bringing a PB&J lunch with fresh boysenberry jam to my boyfriend."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Boysenberry for the boyfriend!"

"He wasn't in the station, so I waited. I witnessed the crime from the glass-walled station… and before I knew what I was doing, I found myself running towards the scene. But… the door was locked. I couldn't open it. That's why I had to go through the visitor's parking in B Block."

"That's quite a detour."

"It probably took me at least five minutes to get to the scene of the crime."

"F-f-f-five minutes!?"

The gallery got noisier.

"Hmm…" the judge muttered. "This changes things considerably!"

"But, it was that woman over there in the defendant's chair who stabbed him! I know it! I have photographic evidence!"

_All that photo shows is a beautiful lady opening the trunk of my car._

"I swear it…" Starr continued. "I swear it on my finest plastic spork!"

"You have a point," the judge said. "And the spork is a wonderful invention."

Starr took out a lunchbox. "Would you like another Caviar Lunch…?"

"Absolutely!"

_Bribing the judge with more fish eggs!? Despicable!_

"Mr. Wright!" Ema begged. "You have to do something!"

"Objection!" Wright shouted. He banged on his desk. "Five minutes between the witnessing of the murder and the arrest! Think about it! You could make pasta in that amount of time! If you like it al dente!"

_Please, Wright, no more food references._

"I've got lunchboxes that tie pasta into knots, Rookie!" Starr said, holding out a lunchbox. Wright shook his head.

"A five minute 'blank'… Isn't that strange!?"

"Strange…?" Miles repeated.

_That's an understatement, Wright._

"If you were a criminal…" Wright trailed off. "What would you do with five minutes, Your Honor?"

"Well, um… I guess I'd flee the scene," the judge replied. "Hey! D-don't get the wrong idea! I didn't kill anyone…"

Wright hit his desk, then pointed at the judge. "But you have the instincts of a killer! You would run! But this time was different! Ms. Skye dawdled at the scene of the crime… she even had her picture taken! No true criminal would act this way! It's inconceivable!"

"Y-yeeeaaargh!" Starr screamed.

The gallery reached a volume that demanded the judge's gavel.

"Well then," the judge said. "It seems we've come to the end of this testimony. She has a grudge against the defendant, and there is a blank in her testimony. Mr. Edgeworth, is the next witness ready to go?"

"Unfortunately… I appear to have overestimated this witness on account of her professional history…" Miles said, pointing at Starr.

"We did it!" Ema chirped. "We screwed that can shut, Mr. Wright!"

The judge banged his gavel and shook his head. "I'm afraid that the Cough-up Queen has been dethroned," he said. "And with that, court is adjourned!"

"Hold it!" Starr yelled. She took out a lunchbox. "Mr. Edgeworth, you ordered the Squid Wheels, right?"

_The only mollusks I like to eat are snails, Ms. Starr._

"I prefer to not take the defense team's leftovers," Miles said. "Anything else to say?"

"I… might be able to save you," Starr said.

_Save me? The one who needs saving is Lana._

"I have decisive evidence," she continued.

"Wh-what was that!?" the judge blathered. "My apologies, but we have no further questions to ask of you, Ms. Starr."

"Ah…" She took out a larger lunchbox. "Is this your jumbo lunchbox?"

"Whoo hoo! A triple-decker!" He whacked his gavel. "Out of deference to the witness's determination, I'll allow one more testimony! Let's hear about this decisive evidence."

_Judge Clous, you are pathetic._

"Like the Lunchland motto says, you won't be disappointed!" Starr replied. "I should have mentioned those five minutes when I wasn't looking at the crime scene. And now, to the matter of the victim's shoe… Did I not bring this up…? Two types of blood were found on this shoe! One was of course the victim's. And the other was…! The defendant, Ms. Lana Skye's blood! This shoe proves it! It's flawless, decisive evidence!"

"Wh-what!?" the judge barked after Starr was silent. Starr pulled another lunchbox out of her basket.

"Try Lunchland, for all your lunch and decisive evidence needs!"

The gallery began chattering.

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "Witness, what's the meaning of this? Why is this the first time I've heard of this evidence?"

"Simple," Starr replied. "As I've already said… I don't trust you with evidence, Mr. Edgeworth! That's why I took the liberty of investigating this myself."

_I don't manipulate evidence, Ms. Starr._

"And… you had blood tests performed?"

"Didn't I mention? I have three boyfriends in forensics."

Miles pounded on his desk. "In any case, Your Honor, I can't accept this as evidence!"

"What…?"

"You should know the two rules of evidence law, Ms. Starr! Rule 1: no evidence shall be shown without the approval of the Police Department! In other words, this shoe is illegal evidence! At least, for the time being!"

"I-is that right, Mr. Wright!?" Ema asked.

"It seems so," Wright responded. "Edgeworth sure is celebrating."

"Not so fast, Mr. Edgeworth," Starr said.

_Will you stop at nothing to make Lana look like a killer?_

"Don't forget… I used to be a detective!" she continued. "As I mentioned previously… This shoe has already been tested by a member of the forensics department!" She took out a file. "As you can see, it was approved by the Police Department as of… today. Even the general public can produce official evidence, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Nuh… Ungh!" Miles growled, slumped over his desk.

_Witch!_

"I-is that right, Mr. Wright?" Ema asked again.

"It seems so," Wright replied. "Edgeworth is looking pretty sullen."

"You could at least study some evidence law! Really!"

The judge banged his gavel. "The prosecution's complaints notwithstanding…" he said. "It appears that this evidence satisfies the first rule of evidence law. Well… It seems you have yet another count against you, witness."

"Anything to ensure that the guilty are properly judged," Starr said.

_Are you sure your last name isn't von Karma!?_

"Very well, Mr. Wright," the judge said, "you may cross-examine the witness."

"Why did you lie about those five minutes?" Wright asked.

"I guess you could say, I just wanted people to look at the results." Starr replied.

"The… results?"

"How many times do I have to say this? I saw the Chief Prosecutor stab the victim before my very own eyes! Compared to that… A five-minute 'blank' means nothing!"

"Then why didn't you just tell the truth?" Miles cut in.

"Don't make me laugh! We're dealing with the most untrustworthy of the vile lot known as prosecutors! Falsified evidence, arranged testimonies, erasing and manipulating evidence… When you fight monsters, you need to use every trick in the book!"

_And that would make the fighter a monster, too._

"False testimony is the most despicable crime of all, Ms. Starr," the judge said.

_Especially if it could get an innocent person executed._

"Let's just get this over with," he continued.

"And now, to the matter of the victim's shoe…" Starr said. "Did I not bring this up…? Two types of blood were found on this shoe! One was of course the victim's. And the other was…! The defendant, Ms. Lana Skye's blood! This shoe proves it! It's flawless, decisive evidence!"

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. Starr took out a lunchbox.

"You ordered the peppered fish guts, right?" she asked.

_Offal isn't exactly popular in this country, Ms. Starr._

"Some like it hot, Mr. Wright," Starr said. "Some, like your client. She's in enough hot water to make a whole batch of soup."

"Mr. Wright!" Ema called. "Do you or don't you have a problem with this shoe!?"

"A problem…?" Wright replied. "If I'm not imagining things… I'd say there is one critical problem with this evidence… A clear contradiction!"

"That gleam in your eyes…" Starr commented. "You're still young, Rookie. I'd give you a peppered fish gut now, but you couldn't take the heat, could you!"

The judge banged his gavel. "Let's hear what Mr. Wright has to say!" he said. "What is contradictory about the victim's shoe? Show us the problem with the evidence!"

Wright was handed the shoe. He pointed to some blood on the sole. "I wonder if you noticed…" he said, "there's blood on the bottom of this shoe!"

"Don't mess with me, Rookie…" Starr said. "Or it'll be your blood on the bottom of my shoe!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Indeed, there is quite a bit of blood on the bottom of the shoe."

"It makes sense," Miles said. "The victim was stabbed with a knife!" He banged on his desk. "What could possibly be contradictory about blood on the bottom of his shoe!?"

Wright pounded on his desk. "The problem lies… in the footprint," he replied.

"The… footprint?" Starr asked.

"Note that the bottom of the victim's shoe is covered in blood. Then… isn't it strange? Why weren't any bloody footprints found by the scene of the crime!?"

"Ah hah!" the judge exclaimed.

"As you can see… There were no traces of any such footprints at the scene of the crime! That contradicts your claim about this shoe!"

"Objection!" Miles barked. He slammed his desk. "This picture only shows part of the floor, so there could have been bloody footprints."

"Objection!" Wright yelled. "If there were bloody prints they would have been found. We checked the scene and found nothing of the sort!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel and managed to get things silent again with three shouts of "Order!"

"Well, witness!?" the judge demanded.

"What!?" Starr snapped. "Huh? I, uh…"

"Great going, Mr. Wright!" Ema cheered. "But… It's true that the lack of a footprint is a contradiction… But then we have to ask why there wasn't a footprint!"

"Oh!"

"That's true!" the judge agreed. "There has to be a reason why there wasn't a footprint!"

"Think, Mr. Wright, think!" Ema begged.

_So how is this possible? If Goodman was stabbed in the parking lot, his shoe must have left a print. Lana couldn't have just wiped up the blood. There must have been some other way…_

"Hey, I don't know why it's not there," Wright said. "I'm just good at finding contradictions."

"What!?"

"Hold it!" Miles shouted. He did his "evil smile." "I see… Now I get it! Our witness is more devious that I gave her credit for! We were hoodwinked to the very end! But she slipped! There is one vital hint to the truth in her testimony…"

"Wh-what are you talking about?" the judge asked.

Miles took out the transcript of one of Starr's earlier testimonies. "Think back to when she told us about apprehending the suspect… 'The Chief Prosecutor tried to resist, but her efforts were in vain. She knocked my hands aside, kicked over an oil drum… Oh, she's beautiful, but deadly! A predator, this one! A leopard woman! Rowr!' I thought that was a strange thing for the normally cool-headed chief to do. Now, witness. Allow me to ask a very simple question. This 'oil drum'… was it empty?"

_If you lie, you'll regret it._

"Oh, that, hmm?" Starr replied. "I'm not sure I like your attitude, Mr. Edgeworth. Though apparently you're not the slowest conveyor belt in the lunchbox factory."

"Witness!" the judge interrupted. "W-well? Was the oil drum empty…?"

"The oil drum kicked over by the Chief Prosecutor… was brimming with water."

"W-water?" Wright asked.

"Still don't get it, Mr. Wright?" Miles taunted. "Do you want to know the reason she knocked it over? The REAL reason?"

_I just find it hard to believe she's actually guilty…_

"Aaaa haaaaah!" the judge exclaimed. "You don't mean…!"

"Yes," Miles said, "the suspect knocked over that oil drum for one reason and one reason alone!" He pounded on his desk. "To erase the blood stains that would become evidence against her!"

"Whaaaaaaaaargh!" Wright howled. The gallery started chattering. The judge whacked his gavel.

"That ties things up quite nicely!" the judge said. "The blood stains left on the victim's shoes tie her quite clearly to this murder! Then, after the deed was done, she knocked over the oil drum to erase the telltale signs!"

"Why, that's a prosecutor's specialty… erasing evidence!" Starr added.

_I just wish it wasn't you, Lana. …Still, I'm a prosecutor. If you're guilty, it's my duty to prove it. Justice comes before love…_

"So my sister's blood on the shoe…" Ema sighed. "That's when it happened?"

"Well… I see no reason to prolong this trial," the judge said.

"M-Mr. Wright! Do something! Please!"

_I hope you'll forgive me, Lana…_

"W-what!?" Wright yelped. "What can I do? Your sister has confessed to the crime, and she tried to conceal it!"

"B-but…"

Miles hit his desk. "Enough," he said. _This has to end now, before I get second thoughts… _"There is no need for further debate. The verdict, Your Honor!"

"Very well…" the judge agreed.

"But Angel Starr is on the prosecution's side!" Ema cried. "She could have been lying about the water!"

_We'll need proof, Ema. I'm sorry._

The judge banged his gavel.

"This court finds the defendant, Ms. Lana Skye…"

"Hold it!" Starr interrupted. "Little girl… What did you just say?"

"Huh…" Ema asked. "M-me?"

"Did you say that I, Angel Starr… was on the prosecution's side?"

"W-well, yeah, you are! You're saying my sister hid evidence by erasing the bloody footprints!"

_Must you torment me like this!?_

"Well," Starr said. She tossed her head. "I thought you'd had your fill, but here you are, demanding a second helping! Another lunchbox… A lunchbox called 'evidence'!"

_I don't need to see any more! Just let me suffer as is!_

"W-wait…" the judge said. Witness, don't tell me you have something else?"

"Objection!" Miles roared. "You've reached your verdict, Your Honor! Any further comments will be held in contempt of court!"

"Your threats don't scare the Cough-up Queen!" Starr hissed. She held up a photograph. "Look at this!!"

"A photograph…?" the judge asked.

"I had this just in case anyone had the gall to suggest that the white shoe didn't belong to the victim!"

"Hmm… I see no room for error in this evidence."

"M-Mr. Wright, wait!" Ema pleaded. "Look at the asphalt in this photo!"

"Hey!" Wright exclaimed. "It's clearly wet!"

The judge whacked his gavel. "Erasing the last traces of doubt from the court's mind," he said. "Immediately after the murder, the crime scene was washed with water!"

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Wright," Ema almost sobbed. "I guess I… I couldn't help after all."

_Ema… I wish you didn't have to see this…_

Wright's eyes closed.

_So that's it. She really is guilty… Lana…_

All of a sudden, Wright's eyes jerked open. The judge banged his gavel.

"Very well!" he said. "This time I'd like to declare a verdict for good!"

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "Your Honor, wait!"

_Arrgh! Wright, must you keep up this death sentence of a trial!?_

"What is it with you people!? Can't I hand down my verdicts in peace anymore!? Whatever it is, can it wait?"

"N-no it can't. Then it will be too late! Look at this photograph, the last one submitted… This trial isn't over… until we give each piece of evidence proper consideration!"

"So, Wright…" Miles growled. "Are you saying there's a problem with this latest piece of evidence?"

"Yeah!" Wright said. "Yeah, there's a problem!"

_I know that tone of voice. You're bluffing._

The judge banged his gavel. "I suppose since we've come this far," he said, "we should give every claim a fair shake. Very well, Mr. Wright. Show the court the problem in this photograph!"

Wright looked at the photograph. He then pounded on his desk.

_So you do have something… It better be important…_

"The problem in this photograph… is here!" Wright shouted, indicating Miles's car's muffler.

"What's this…?" Miles asked as he was handed the photo. "There's something poking out of the car's muffler!"

"Wait just a moment, Mr. Edgeworth!" the judge interrupted.

"Your Honor?"

"You just said 'muffler'… However I see no trace of a muffler or scarf of any kind in this photograph!"

_The other type of muffler, Judge Clousless._

"A muffler is also a part on a car or motorcycle, Your Honor," Miles explained. "Just think of it as… part of the exhaust system. A pipe…"

"I see!" the judge replied. "And… I see! What's that suspicious-looking cloth sticking out of the car's muffler?"

"Hmph! So what if there is something sticking out of the muffler!" Starr snapped. "What does that have to do with this case? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!"

_It has plenty to do with this case. That cloth was put in the muffler after the murder, making it relevant!_

"Objection!" Wright barked. "Sorry, Ms. Starr… But it's not going to be that easy! In fact, you've already told us why this is important to the case… You said as much in your testimony!!"

"Wh-what!?" Starr hissed.

_What are you driving at, Wright? Basic logic proves the cloth's relevance!_

The judge banged his gavel. "Let's hear what Mr. Wright has on his mind!" he said. "Tell us why you think this piece of cloth in the muffler is related to this case."

Wright banged on his desk. "Ms. Starr!" he shouted. "Recall your testimony for the court… 'Ah yes. When I arrested her, she mentioned the muffler! That's what had me confused in my earlier testimony!'"

"Muffler!" Starr repeated. "Argh! Yeearrrrgh!"

"Could it be that the 'muffler' you heard mentioned… Was actually this exhaust pipe!?" He hit his desk. "If so! That means this piece of cloth is vital evidence!"

"Oh… Whoooooooooooooooooooooooragh!"

"Well…" the judge said. "It seems we will have to suspend the proceedings."

"Sus… Suspend!?"

"I find myself wondering about that piece of cloth. If we leave any question unanswered here we do a disservice to the law! Have the car at the crime scene inspected at once, and bring me that cloth! The verdict will wait until after we've seen all the evidence. Agreed…?"

_This could be decisive… Maybe Lana is innocent… And I was going to demand a premature verdict…_

"I suppose so," Miles said.

The judge banged his gavel. "The court will adjourn for a thirty minute recess! It's lunchtime after all!"

_You can't be serious…_

* * *

_I can't believe I deluded myself into believing that the case was so simple… There are so many problems… The knife… The photo… And that cloth… And Lana's confession… Thinking about it, it still makes no sense. If her blackmailer had ordered the murder, then Lana would have been prepared. There's something else going on here, and I need to find out what._

"How'd it go, sir?" Gumshoe's voice asked.

"No verdict yet," Miles said, turning to face Gumshoe. A young woman in a police uniform was standing next to him. She looked familiar for some reason.

"Really? I thought Ms. Starr's testimony was… well… decisive."

"She lied on the stand; a capital offense if Lana is wrongfully executed as a result."

"Capital, sir?" the officer asked.

"Perjury that contributes to a person's death is a crime subject to capital punishment in this state. And to think that witch thought ill of my methods… Trying to get someone convicted simply because of a personal grudge… Absolutely despicable."

"What are you going to do, sir?" Gumshoe asked.

"Continue, of course. I took this case because I wanted to be sure Lana got the right verdict."

"Sir, why are you referring to the Chief Prosecutor by her first name?" the officer asked.

"Because I love her," Miles replied.

_And speaking of love, I just remembered who you are._

"You are… Maggey Byrde, correct?" Miles asked the officer.

"Y-yes sir! But how did you know who I am, sir?"

"Detective Gumshoe mentioned you a few times. You work under him, right?"

"Yes, sir! It's an honor to work under him, sir!"

"So, Mr. Edgeworth, what now?" Gumshoe asked.

"Hope that something critical is unveiled when the recess is over," Miles said. "Hopefully, something that will prove Lana innocent."

"Don't think you'll be having that luck, pardner," a voice said. Marshall, obviously.

"How did the investigation go?" Miles asked.

"We ain't found much, but the chief said he's coming with important news and evidence. Hate to tell you this, boy, but it looks like your lady's gonna be found guilty."

"Only if I truly believe she's guilty. As the prosecutor, I need to make sure there is no doubt about Lana's guilt."

"Heh. You know, you're a real prince when it comes to that gal. Makes me really see why she likes you. Keep your eye out for rattlers; there's a whole bunch of 'em on this trail."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"By the way, someone from the Bar Association told me to warn you not to conceal evidence. Next time they catch you with a gun hidden in your boot, you're getting called out."

_What!? Concealing evidence!?_

"Please leave me, Marshall. I need some time alone. You too, Gumshoe and Byrde."

Miles collapsed onto the sofa and placed his forehead in his hands.

_This… this is unacceptable! In this case!? I would never manipulate the evidence!_

* * *

The recess wasn't enough time for Miles to get his wits about him. Gumshoe had to lead Miles into the courtroom by his hand. After the judge had entered, he banged his gavel.

"I'd… like to… resume…?"

_I can't believe this… Who's concealing the evidence!?_

"Is something wrong, Mr. Edgeworth?" the judge asked. "Your face is blue, your lips are purple, you're sweating bullets… That furrowed brow, those grinding teeth, those watery eyes… What's more your eyes are unfocused, you're doubled over, your back is bent…"

Miles slammed his desk. "It… can't… be!!" he managed to say, bending back over. "This… can't… happen!"

"I wonder what happened to Mr. Edgeworth?" Ema wondered. The judge banged his gavel.

"Well then, I believe it is time we continued on with this trial," the judge said. "During our recess I had requested that the prosecution conduct an investigation…"

"Th-this is unacceptable!" Miles exploded.

"Hmm… It seems our prosecutor is quite beside himself."

"Ah, er, excuse me," a voice said. "Knock knock?"

"Who's there?" the judge asked.

Gant walked up to the stand.

"Hey!" Ema commented. "The temperature rose 5.7 degrees when that man came in!"

"Ah, it's you…" the judge said.

Gant waited until he was sure all eyes were on him.

"Oh!" he chirped. "Oh, heh heh. Sorry I'm late, Udgey! The roads were packed. It's just me! Long time no see, eh, Udgey? How ya been? Swim much these days!"

"Ah! Hello, hello. No, I've been so busy…"

"Busy! Busy-smizzy, Udgey, my boy! You have to make time to relax!"

"Y-yes, indeed."

"Udgey… seems to be his nickname for the judge…?" Ema asked, confused.

"I'm afraid you're right," Wright said. "Very afraid." He turned to Gant. "Um… sorry, but… who are you?"

"Ah hah!" Gant exclaimed. "So you're Wrighto! The attorney! I've heard good things about you, son!"

"Eh? Uh, th-thanks…?"

"So sorry about our little Worthy giving you all that trouble, eh? You know, we should all go swimming together sometime! Jolly!"

"Little… Little Worthy…?"

"Mr. Wright!" the judge barked. "You don't know the district Chief of Police!?"

"Chuh….?" Wright stammered. "Chief of Police…!?"

"He's the top-ranking police officer in the entire district!"

Gant waited for absolute silence in the courtroom.

"Name's Gant, Damon Gant," he said. "Pleased to meet you, everyone!"

"So, uh, to what do we owe this honor today?" the judge asked. "It's been over… two years since you last came to this courtroom, hasn't it?"

"Well, it's Worthy, here. Look at the poor fellow! I just thought I'd help out… by bringing this." He held up Lana's scarf.

_No… that… That's Lana's…_

"Hey!" Wright exclaimed. "Th-that's…!"

"My sister's muffler!" Ema finished.

"But to think it was stuffed into that exhaust pipe…" Gant said.

_Why would Lana do that?_

"On little Worthy's car, no less!" he continued. He unfolded the scarf and took out what looked like a switchblade knife. "It's really quite embarrassing, even for us."

_No… Is that…?_

"Wh-what's this!?" the judge asked, noticing the knife.

"It's what you'd call a switchblade knife," Gant answered. "Quite perplexing, this."

The gallery started up.

"Objection!" Miles shouted, hitting his desk. "Chief! What kind of outfit are you running!?"

"M-Mr. Edgeworth!" the judge gasped.

"How could they miss such a vital piece of evidence!? If your investigators are this lax, how do you expect us to do our job?"

"N-now wait just a minute, Worthy!" Gant requested.

Miles banged on his desk.

"I've no desire to hear your excuses!" he barked.

"I'm telling you to wait!" Gant said. He paused. "Or didn't you hear me?"

_What have you got up your sleeve, Gant? Are you going to try to pin this mistake on me?_

Gant took out a file. "Have a look at this document," he said, "where it says 'person in charge of investigation'… There's no mistaking that signature… Miles Edgeworth?"

"Th-that's no fair!" Miles stammered. "The day of the crime, I-I had…"

"Your head in the clouds because you got that award! I know how you feel…"

_No, I was busy picking up that stupid screwdriver for you!_

"But you're the person in charge," Gant continued. "I'll expect a written apology."

"What?" Miles demanded. "Are you serious!?"

"Don't be too upset, we'll find a way to clean up this mess… that you made."

_That_ I_ made!?_

"This is the first time I've seen Mr. Edgeworth at a loss for words…" Ema commented.

The judge banged his gavel.

"This kind of major blunder is unlike you Mr. Edgeworth," he said.

"Gah…!" Miles hissed.

"The court accepts this new evidence. But, I'd like to ask the defense a favor first."

"Y-yes?" Wright asked.

"Just to be sure… I'd like to take a look at the blade of this knife."

"The b-blade, Your Honor? Well, I don't see why not…"

"Could you open it up for me, I wonder?"

"Yes, well. I think all you have to do is push that switch, and…"

"If I cut my finger Mr. Wright, I wouldn't be able to pound my gavel anymore."

_You've got to be kidding me…_

"Come on!" Ema snapped. "Just hurry up and open it!"

The bailiff handed Wright the knife. Wright pressed the switch. A blade with the tip broken off popped out.

"Waaaah!" Ema screamed. "D-don't scare me like that!"

"I'm the one who's scared!" Wright replied.

"Look at this knife blade… the tip is broken off.

_The tip… No! Not that knife!_ Miles gritted his teeth. _That cursed thing is the blade that started it all… Lana wouldn't be in this mess were it not for that knife!_

The whole disaster came back to haunt Miles. Neil Marshall's death, Miles's brief engagement to Lana, the return of the ring to his possession, the mysterious dismissal of Angel Starr and demotion of Jake Marshall, Ema crying on the stand, and Lana building a wall around herself. Though the case ended in a guilty verdict, by the time it had been formally finished, Miles felt as though his heart had been ripped out.

"This does not excuse the actions of the Police Department!" Miles shouted, returning to the present. "I would like to hear an explanation from the Chief of Police himself!"

The judge pounded his gavel.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said, "but could I ask you to testify for us? About the split between the prosecutors and the police… and this knife."

"Sure!" Gant said, clapping his hands and smiling jollily. "Not a problem, not even a little one! Really!" He paused, waiting for everyone's attention to be on him. "This knife is special… but I can't say how here. Unless there's evidence to prove a connection between this knife and Goodman… That was a bad day for the Department. We weren't in any shape to do an investigation. A detective was killed at the Police Department, see… what a mess! The time of the crime? 5:15. Scary coincidence, eh? It's not officially linked to this here case, so I can't talk much about it."

"There…" the judge stammered. "There was a murder at the Police Department!? A detective!?"

"That's hush-hush information, Udgey! We haven't exactly announced it yet."

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "W-wait a second! You said '5:15'…" He pounded on his desk. "That's the exact time that Detective Goodman was killed at the Prosecutor's Office!"

The gallery started up, silenced by three whacks of the judge's gavel and three cries of "Order!"

"Anyway," Gant continued, "we at the Department were all a-flustered, as you might well assume. We're in the middle of a top-secret investigation. Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"I think we understand the Police Department's situation…" the judge agreed. "Well, Mr. Wright?"

"The chances of that are really slim," Ema said, referring to the simultaneous murders. "Scientifically speaking, of course."

"I'd… like to exercise my right to cross-examine the witness," Wright said.

"Very well…" the judge said with a nod, "however! Keep your questions focused on the case at hand!"

Wright was handed the testimony. He looked over it. He then looked at a piece of paper that he took out of his coat pocket.

"Objection!" he yelled, pointing at Gant. "Wait a second!"

"Ah, at last!" Gant exclaimed, clapping. "An honest to goodness 'objection'!"

"This knife… This has to have something to do with Detective Goodman!"

"What do you mean!?" the judge demanded.

"Ah hah!" Gant laughed. "An honest-to-goodness what do you mean from the judge! This is great!"

"Look at the tag on this knife!" Wright requested. "It reads 'SL-9 2'…"

_It _IS _that cursed knife! SL-9…_

"And this is important… why?" the judge asked.

"Over here we also have…" Wright said, holding the piece of paper from a moment ago. "A memo that was on the body of the victim!" The judge was handed the memo.

"Hmm… what's this? 6 minus 7S… 12/2…?"

Wright shook his head. "Your Honor… It's upside-down."

"Upside…?"

"The printed name on the memo makes it look like it's right-side up… But turn it around and what do you get!?"

"Ah… Ah haaaaah!" the judge exclaimed, doing just that.

"When he wrote this note, he was holding the paper upside down!"

"SL-9… That's the same thing that is written on the knife's tag!"

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge pounded his gavel.

"Order!" he shouted. "Order!" He looked at Gant. "Well, Chief?"

"Ah well," Gant said after a moment. "I guess the cat's out of the bag… You win, Wrighto!"

"I… win?" Wright asked, confused. "Ah…"

_You knew the knife was connected!?_

"This knife was evidence in a case," Gant said. "It was stolen from the Department's evidence room. That was a bad day for the Department. We weren't in any shape to do an investigation. A detective was killed at the Police Department, see… what a mess!"

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "On the same day that a detective was killed in the Prosecutor's parking lot… Another detective… was killed at the Police Department!?"

"That's a fact. Surprising, isn't it, Udgey?"

"I'm at a loss for words," the judge responded.

"And the perpetrator?" Miles asked. "Do you have a suspect?"

"Well, there was a suspect," Gant replied. "Just arrested 'em, in fact. But… there's still a lot of unanswered questions. Maybe you could help, Wright!"

"I suppose I could help… if you help me by giving me data on your case?"

"Oooh, good one! This kid's sharp! Okay, here's the deal. I'll tell you one thing and one thing only…"

"So, tell me… where was the victim found?"

Gant was silent for a moment. "Well, I can't speak on where the corpse was found. But I can say the crime took place in the evidence room at the Police Department."

_What!? But that's where that knife was taken from!_

"The evidence room…" Ema said. "Didn't he mention that in his testimony just now?" Wright smiled. "You seem happy, Mr. Wright!"

"Happy?" Wright repeated. "We just got handed our ticket to go to town on this case!"

"It's not officially linked to this here case," Gant said, "so I can't talk much about it."

"Hold it!" Wright barked, banging on his desk. "Chief… The defense's position is simply this: The connection between these two cases has already been proven!"

"Heh, you don't say? Well, out with it Wrighto! What's your connection?"

"Yes, out with it, Mr. Wright," the judge echoed.

"The connection is a place, mentioned in the testimony we just heard," Wright explained. "The knife found in the lot was stolen… from the Police Department's evidence room."

"Not to mention the victim had written down the numbers on the knife's evidence tag," Miles added.

"And we also know that the detective murdered at the Police Department was killed in that very same evidence room!"

"Indeed…" the judge said with a nod. "There do seem to be too many connections for it to be a coincidence."

Gant was quiet for a while. After a moment, he finally spoke.

"You two make a good pair," he said. "It took my men two days to find out what you deduced right here."

Miles pounded on his desk. "Chief!" he shouted. "I request that you release your information on the victim at the Police Department!"

"See, that's the tricky part. It hasn't been announced yet, and all…"

"Can we get the information… unofficially?" Wright asked, an ignorant grin on his face.

"Hmmmmm…" He paused for a moment. "Sure! Why not? It's unofficial, after all."

_Amazing…_

"Who would have guessed?" Ema commented.

"I'll cooperate," Gant continued, "but I can't reveal the name of the victim at the Department, okay?"

"If you're going to tell us a little, why not tell us everything?" Wright asked.

"Ah, well, case information is sticky stuff. You have to do everything properly."

"Okay… How about you tell me the victim's ID number?"

"Hmm? Sure, why not. It's not like you'll be able to tell who it is from that!"

"Of course not," Wright agreed. "You won't tell me their name, after all."

"We keep a tight lid on ID numbers, so don't go getting your hopes up. The number is… 5842189."

"Well!" the judge exclaimed. "That's quite… long!"

"And we have to remember these! It drives me nuts!"

"8… 2… I can't do it."

_I hope his memory wasn't always this pitiful…_

The judge banged his gavel.

"Well, Mr. Wright?" he asked. "Does this tell you anything?"

Wright hit his desk. "Actually, it does, Your Honor," he replied. "It does…! I think!"

"Meaning?"

_What's going on in that head of yours, Wright?_

The judge whacked his gavel. "Well, let's hear what the defense has to say," he said. "You say the ID number of the detective who was murdered at the Police Department tells you something? What does it tell you!?"

Wright slammed his desk.

"Witness!" he yelled. He was silent.

Everyone waited for Wright to continue.

"What is it, Mr. Wright!?" the judge demanded, taking the words right our of Miles's mouth. "You're grinning like a schoolgirl on prom night!"

"No, I…" Wright trailed off, "it's just, I got confused…"

"And this is news?" Miles joked.

"Huh?"

"Just come out with both guns blazing… like you always do."

"Actually, I happen to have a police ID number here."

"Oh hoh!" the judge exclaimed. "Is it yours?"

"N-no, Your Honor. I'm a defense attorney… remember? This is the ID number of our victim, Detective Goodman."

"Shame on you, Wrighto!" Gant teased, clapping his hands. "Personnel IDs are top secret!"

"Detective Goodman's ID number is… '5842189.'"

_And you're telling us this… why?_

"And…?" the judge asked. "This means… what, exactly?"

"Huh?" Wright replied.

_Wait a minute…_

"Wait…" the judge said. "That ID number we heard from the Chief earlier… That started with '82…' Hmm. I've forgotten."

_What a surprise._

"The number the Chief of Police gave us was… 5842189."

"Objection!" Miles roared. "W-wait a second, Wright! What does this…?"

"Mean? That's what I want to know! The two ID numbers are identical! In other words… The detective killed in the Police Department's evidence room was Bruce Goodman!" He hit his desk. "What does our witness think about that!?"

"Oh! Ho ho ho, sharp as a tack Wrighto!" Gant cheered. "Sharp as a tack!"

"B-but wait!" the judge cut in. "Detective Goodman is OUR victim! He was killed at 5:15 in the underground parking lot!"

Wright slammed his desk.

"Yet," he said, "a Detective Bruce Goodman was also killed at the Police Department… In the evidence room… at the exact same time!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted, striking his desk. "Th-that's impossible! So, what we're saying is… The same person was killed at the same time!? And in a completely different location!?"

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge pounded his gavel.

"Order!" he cried. "Order! Order!" He looked at Gant. "Chief! What does this mean!?"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "No… what I want to know is… why didn't I hear about this!? Yes, it's top-secret, fine! But I'm the prosecutor in charge of the case!!"

"Now, just wait a second, Worthy," Gant said. "No need to get all flustered."

_Flustered!? An innocent lady may have been convicted!_

Miles hit his desk. "Your Honor!" he barked. "The Police Department has made a grave error in this case…"

"Wait," Gant said. "I said 'wait.' Or didn't you hear me?"

_What now!?_

"The oversight… the grave error…?" he continued. "Mr. Edgeworth… They're yours."

"Wh-what!? How… how dare…"

"We informed you yesterday. I believe it was our Officer Meekins who brought you the news?"

"O-officer… Meekins?"

"Mr. Wright!" Ema called. "Where have we heard that name before? Wait… Ah hah!"

_Meekins… That bumbling fool who said the file was irrelevant!?_

"You don't mean… him!?" Miles growled, slumped over his desk.

"According to Meekins, you didn't accept the report? Hard to believe."

"B-but your officer, he told me!" Miles straightened up. "He said that report had nothing to do with the Lana Skye incident!"

"Detective Bruce Goodman murdered in the Police Department evidence room… Mr. Edgeworth. The victim's name is written right on the top of the report."

"Gaaaaaaah!" Miles screamed. "Wh-why didn't your officer tell me!?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure if that officer was capable of making the connection…" Ema commented. "He did seem… challenged."

"In any case, this is a serious error," Gant said, "a gross negligence of duty on your part, Worthy."

"Objection!" Miles howled. "B-but, sir!! You could have submitted that report this morning to the court, as evidence! Then, I…" Miles couldn't finish the sentence. What was there to say?

"No such luck this time, Worthy… or should I say, un-Worthy?"

"What!?"

"Now what was the second rule of evidence law, hmm?"

"Well, Mr. Wright?" Ema asked.

"Huh?" Wright yelped. "Oh, well, it's, uh…"

"Rule 2:" Miles said. "New evidence may only be submitted if it concerns the case on trial. And how is this relevant!?"

"Normally, you submit a list of evidence to be used in court before the trial," Gant said, messing with his hair. "This report wasn't on that list…"

"So…" the judge said. "What does this mean?"

"I couldn't submit this evidence until a connection was proven in court."

_Arrgh!! I… I can't believe I was so stupid!! I was so focused on the case before me that I didn't consider the possibility of a connection…_

"The connection was just proven by Wrighto over here," Gant continued. "Good job, Wrighto, my boy!"

"Huh?" Wright chirped. "Uh… I… I was just doing my job."

"No…" Miles sobbed. "Nooooooooooooooo!!"

The gallery started up. After a moment, they calmed down on their own.

"It seems… we have come to the end of this trial," the judge said.

"You are becoming a thorn in my side, Worthy…" Gant said. "There've been rumors… After all, you were in the defendant's chair just last year…!"

"I apologize for this terrible lack of due diligence on my part…" Miles said, struggling to calm down.

"M-Mr. Edgeworth!" the judge exclaimed.

"Please… Just give me one day. I'll get to the bottom of what happened… If it's the last thing I do!"

"You'd better get results this time," Gant pressed. "Really."

"I'm sorry!" Miles wailed, as much to Lana as the court. "I'm so sorry!"

"Poor Mr. Edgeworth…" Ema sighed.

The judge banged his gavel and shook his head.

"I don't think there's ever been an error this serious in the history of this court," he said. "We will grant one further day as the prosecution has requested. Will this be sufficient, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Yes, Your Honor," Miles replied. "Thank you."

"Whatever your punishment for this is, for your sake I hope it's not… decisive." He pounded his gavel again. "Very well! Court is adjourned!"

_This still makes no sense. Unless everything Starr said and presented was false, there's still that scene in the parking lot to take into account. But now we've got the evidence room murder, too. What the hell is going on with this case!?_


	23. Part I, Chapter 22: Darkness

**Chapter 22—Darkness**

February 23, 2017

Starr had made a horrible mistake that day in court. In committing perjury, she had put her life on the line. If Lana was executed and later exonerated, Starr would be sentenced to death. It was a stupid move. Starr had once been a respectable detective, but her grudge against Lana blinded her to the danger she was putting herself in. Lana could probably help the investigation, but doing that would put Ema in danger.

_It's not your fault that Starr's in danger. She chose to lie. She could have testified truthfully, and I would still look guilty._ Lana sighed. _This whole disaster is going to harm many people. It's already wounded plenty. Goodman has already lost his life to SL-9. At the least, he can't suffer any more because of it. Jake hasn't been the same ever since Neil died. And Ema… Oh, Ema… She'll probably never forgive me. I've done irreparable damage to her innocent soul. And then there's Miles. No matter how this ends, he's going to be in terrible pain. I probably should have abandoned our relationship altogether. At least then he would have no qualms about proving me guilty. Still… I can't change the past._

_Why must I care so much about Ema? If I didn't love her so, I could have stopped all of this from happening. I could have just left the scene the way I found it. But no. I had to worry about her. I felt a need to protect her. And Gant, taking advantage of that need, gained control over me. Then everything went downhill. If only I had left the crime scene alone…_

_Then what? Would I have been able to handle that? Then, rather than regretting what I did, I would regret my own inactivity. Ema would have been seen as a killer. Even though she'd not be sentenced to death, her life would be ruined. And I'd have to deal with the fact that I could have stopped it._

_There's no way out. SL-9 has me. No matter what I could have done, I would have suffered. I can only watch as my fate—and the fate of others—unfolds before my eyes. I suppose the only question is will I die in darkness, or will others be incinerated by the light?_

A guard came in and led Lana into a questioning room. Considering what had been revealed in court, this session was probably going to be a long one.

"You know what was revealed in court, so I'll cut to the chase," an officer said. "Which one of you killed Bruce Goodman?"

"I confessed to the crime yesterday," Lana said. "I killed Goodman."

"Look, I know that's what you said, but the guy we arrested is saying the same thing. According to his statements, what he did was justified self-defense. You, on the other hand, are charged with premeditated murder. If you're found guilty, you're looking at 30 years minimum. Given the circumstances, you'll probably get life, if not death. Do you want that?"

"I killed Goodman, so I deserve whatever I am sentenced to."

"Then why the hell was Goodman also killed at the Police Department?"

_Why? I don't know who died there, but it wasn't Goodman. I'd bet my life that he was in Miles's car at 5:15._

"Answer me!"

_It's basic logic that Goodman was in Miles's car. But this… This could be of use to me._

"Why was Goodman killed in two places at once!?"

"I'll tell you—on a condition," Lana finally said.

"What's the condition?"

"My involvement in Goodman's death be treated not as murder, but as voluntary manslaughter."

"What!?"

"Take it or leave it."

"I-I don't have that kind of authority!"

"Then deliver my message to someone who can make this bargain with me. I will help out with the evidence room incident in any way I can if my maximum sentence be that for voluntary manslaughter."

"I'll call Mr. Edgeworth."

The guard left Lana behind in the questioning room, taking care to lock the door beforehand.

_Perhaps that will help take the pressure off of him. At the least, if he proves me guilty, he won't have my death on his hands. Poor Miles… He always seems fated to walk the most difficult path possible. And I was always there to help him when he felt weak… But not this time. But he doesn't need me. He's stronger than he lets himself think. Merely staying on the path he's chosen is a symbol of that strength of will._

Lana sighed. _Miles… I'm sorry you have to suffer so much on my account. Don't take all of this as a sign that I do not love you. Even though you can't always trust me in law, when it comes to love, you will never find someone more worthy of your trust._

Miles came as soon as he could—which was in a few hours, thanks to the inquiry committee.

"So, what's this I hear about a plea bargain?" Miles asked, seating himself.

"On the condition that my maximum sentence be that given for voluntary manslaughter, I'll cooperate with the investigation," Lana said.

Miles closed his eyes. He was no doubt struggling with having to face Lana like this.

_Miles… You can't do anything to stop this. All you can do is mitigate the damage._

"As much as I'd like to, that's too steep," he said. "I can promise no capital punishment, possibly more, but voluntary manslaughter is out of the question."

"Second degree murder, then? Twenty years maximum sentence."

Miles stopped to think.

"Deal," he said after a moment. "Guard, you may leave us."

"Sir?" the guard asked.

"Perhaps I should be more specific. Please leave us. I'll call you back in when I'm done."

"Yes, sir."

The guard walked out.

"Let's start with the purpose of the plea bargain," Miles said. "What do you know about the murder in the evidence room?"

"Goodman was in the Prosecutor's Office parking lot at 5:15. Whoever was stabbed in the evidence room was not Goodman."

"Then where's the fake Goodman?"

"I have no idea. As far as I know, no body was found. Perhaps the 'murder' didn't really happen?"

"So you're still insisting that you killed Goodman?"

"I stabbed him in the Prosecutor's Office parking lot at 5:15. Unless someone managed to switch the body of the person I stabbed with Goodman's body, there's no way the person killed in the evidence room—if anyone died there to begin with—was Goodman."

Miles had his eyes closed. He sighed through his nose.

"What are you hiding?" he asked.

"Excuse me? I struck a plea bargain. I can't keep any secrets about the case."

"I want the truth, Lana. If there's any case I must be absolutely sure of, one in which I have no doubt about the defendant's guilt or innocence, it's this one. I'm not going to send the lady I love to prison unless I know she's guilty."

"I am."

"You say it, but what if you're just protecting your blackmailer? No—protecting your blackmailer to protect Ema?"

"Ema has nothing to do with this," Lana lied.

"But that's not true, is it? Ema has everything to do with this. The fact that you were nearly asking for the death sentence proves that you did not kill Goodman to save yourself. You also told me that you stabbed him because your blackmailer told you to. The only conclusion I can reach is that you did it for Ema."

"…No. It wasn't just for her. It was for you, too."

"Me?"

"There's a great darkness covering my secret. It holds back a harsh light, one that would burn right through your heart. I won't allow it to break free; I don't want to see you suffer."

"I'm already suffering. I trust you, Lana, so why don't you trust me?"

"If I keep my secret, you won't blame yourself for any of this. And Ema will be safe."

"Of course I'll blame myself! For two years, I've been hunting the truth. If I had been more relentless in my pursuit of it, I could have caught your blackmailer and freed both you and Ema. That's why I want to end this. Even if you're going to prison for murder, I need to know that you're safe." He closed his eyes again. "You know how much I love you. …I need you, Lana."

"No, you don't. You're stronger than you let yourself think."

"And yet I was weak enough to let this happen. And I'm too weak to defeat your blackmailer."

"You're right. You are, and so am I. Even together, we cannot defeat him. So let it go. Accept defeat and move on. Only the weakest of the weak dwell on the past instead of look to the future."

Miles sighed. "I'll find the truth—if not for you, then for myself. Maybe I don't need you, but I need to be satisfied with this disaster. I want to look back on it and not fear it." He got up and started to leave. "Good-bye, Lana."

"Miles."

He turned around.

"Do what you can to help Ema with her investigation," Lana said. "At the least, she should come to terms with the truth."

"I will."

Miles left and the guard entered.

_Miles… I'll help, but you won't realize it until it's over. For you, and for Ema, I'll take this risk. You and I alone can't defeat him, but with Wright and Ema, we might have a chance. But you won't see that I'm helping until the verdict has been handed down. _I'll help you through this darkness, and... if the light breaks free, I'll let it, even if it hurts you.


	24. Part I, Chapter 23: Deceived

**Chapter 23—Deceived**

February 24, 2017

"Court is now in session for the trial of Ms. Lana Skye," Judge Clous said with a whack of his gavel.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said.

"The prosecution is…" Miles trailed off. "Hmph," he laughed.

"…Hmph?" the judge repeated. "I'm afraid you'll have to clarify."

"It takes 30 minutes by car to reach criminal affairs from the Prosecutor's Office." _Though it's closer to 45 in San Diego's typical traffic…_ "The victim, Bruce Goodman, was slain at both places at the same time."

"But, that's not physically possible, is it?" the judge asked. "What's more, I hear the victim from the evidence room just 'disappeared'!"

"Yes, and the body eventually reappeared in the trunk of Mr. Edgeworth's car," Ema added.

_Just my luck for the one Lana didn't do to be the fake murder._

"One of my duties as prosecutor is to present impartial evidence," Miles said. "Today I will present evidence relating to the murder at the Police Department. In so doing, I believe the way in which we should proceed will reveal itself."

"Now that's what sets Mr. Edgeworth apart," Ema commented. "He sounds so on top of things even though he doesn't know what's going on himself!"

"And that's supposed to be an admirable trait?" Wright replied.

_Hah! The evidence found in the other investigation makes it obvious what happened! I just wish it wasn't true…_

The judge banged his gavel.

"Very well," he said, "let the trial resume. On the day of the crime, what exactly transpired at the Police Department? Mr. Edgeworth, you may call your first witness of the day to the stand."

"For its first witness," Miles said, "the prosecution calls the suspect of the murder that occurred at the Police Department!"

"The suspect!? You mean, the so-called murderer!?"

The gallery started up as Wright began sweating. Meekins took the stand.

"Will the witness please state his name and occupation," Miles requested.

"Yes, sir!" Meekins replied, saluting. "I am Officer Mike Meekins, sir! My occupation is, um…" he banged his fist onto a heavily bandaged hand and continued, "that would be murderer, sir!"

_Idiot…_

"Er…" the judge grumbled. "So you're telling us you're a 'professional killer'…"

"Sir. It was me, sir! I'm the one who did it! I'll never kill anyone again, sir! YOU'VE GOT TO BELIEVE ME, SIR!"

_We can do without the loudspeaker, Meekins. Your voice is obnoxious enough on its own._

"Uh… Actually, what we'd like to hear from you is…"

"Sir! I'm what you would call part of the 'younger generation,' sir! A PERSON WHOSE ACTIONS ADULTS CAN'T POSSIBLY COMPREHEND!"

_You're a person whose actions even Sigmund Freud wouldn't understand._

"Please, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" the judge begged. "Help me, sir!"

_Great. It's contagious._

Miles pounded on his desk. "Officer Meekins," he said flatly.

"Y-yes, sir!" Meekins responded, saluting again.

"Give us your report of the crime. Consider that an order."

"Yes, sir! As you wish! After all, I am part of a generation that must be told what to do, sir!"

_No, you're part of an IQ level that must be told what to do._

"You can't fault him for a lack of enthusiasm," Ema commented.

"Although it's not my normal duty," Meekins said, "I was assigned to guard the evidence room that day! I spotted a suspicious man on the security screen, and rushed into the room! I was only doing what I was trained to do, sir! I was suddenly attacked! I FOUGHT FOR MY LIFE! THEN I… I DID IT! After that I passed out… until another officer smacked me awake!"

"Hmm," the judge mumbled. "So the victim, Detective Goodman, attacked you?"

"'DO UNTO OTHERS BEFORE THEY DO UNTO YOU'! That's the Meekins family motto, sir!"

"I see. Then you fainted, and a colleague helped you regain consciousness."

"Yes, sir! He knocked me upside the head, sir!"

"Very well. The defense may begin its cross-examination."

"Mr. Meekins," Wright said. "You work in the General Affairs Department, do you not?"

"Yes, sir!" Meekins replied. "I am in charge of hiring new recruits, sir!"

_No wonder the Police Department's average IQ has been dropping._

"Evidence transferal was taking place on the day of the crime," Miles stated, "which meant many officers were given special tasks not ordinarily performed."

"I was in charge of guarding the Blue Badger, sir!" Meekins said, somewhat proud.

"The Blue Badger?" the judge asked.

"Yes, sir. The lovely police mascot created by the Head Detective, sir! I was to ensure it wasn't broken during the transferal process. That was my sole mission for the day, sir!"

"I see. Sounds like a very… uh, important mission."

"After the award ceremony finished that day, there were so many people running around that I relocated the Blue Badger to the evidence room!"

"Oh… So that's why you went to the evidence room."

"Tell us…" Miles said, "what did you see when you got there?"

"I spotted a suspicious man on the security screen, and rushed into the room!" Meekins almost screamed.

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "In order to enter the evidence room, you need an ID card, am I correct?"

"Precisely, sir! I have one right here around my neck!"

"So then, your ID number should be listed in here, right?"

Wright was holding up a sheet of paper. The ID Card Record, no doubt. Meekins was handed the paper.

"THERE IT IS! I FOUND IT! This is the one right here."

"Could you please read us the number?" the judge requested.

"Yes, sir! It's '4989596.' That's my number, sir!"

"I see…" Wright said. "Huh? But the number 4989596… is shown as being used twice!"

Miles hit his desk. "Please explain, witness," he ordered.

"It's n-no real mystery, sir!" Meekins answered. "The first time is when I relocated Blue Badger to the evidence room, and the second time is when I went to go get him after everything settled down."

"I see," the judge said. "So it was during that second time when?"

"Yes, sir! That was when I spotted the man on the security screen! I was only doing what I was trained to do, sir! I was suddenly attacked!"

"Hold it!" Wright yelled. "So you were attacked… Can you please tell us exactly what happened to you?"

"It was a knife, sir! A knife!"

"Detective Goodman pulled a knife on you?" the judge asked. "What happened then?"

"Well, with me charging in on him like that, he looked as surprised as I was! That's when I reacted, sir! I swung my arms like an octopus, struggling to detain him! That's how I got this gash on my hand."

_How did this idiot get into the force?_

"Maybe if you'd just kept your cool your hand wouldn't be…" Ema trailed off.

"When I saw the blood trickling down my arm, I panicked!" Meekins continued. "I grabbed the man by his collar! I FOUGHT FOR MY LIFE! THEN I… I DID IT!"

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "What exactly do you mean when you say you, 'did it'?"

"I know I don't look the type, but I'm really into kung fu films, sir!"

_Maybe you should have learned it yourself rather than just watched actors pretend to do it…_

"The man let his guard down for just an instant, so I snatched his knife from him!" Meekins exclaimed.

"You took his knife?" Wright asked, sweat running down his face.

"I spun him around and performed a disarming maneuver! I made sure to close my eyes like a man!"

"I, uh, see…"

_If this fool gets off the hook, I'm going to demand that he go through training again._

"The next thing I knew," Meekins said, "his white coat was drenched in a sea of my blood, and then… Then, the next thing I knew…"

"Yes?" the judge insisted.

"HE PUNCHED ME RIGHT IN MY FACE, SIR! After that I passed out… until another officer smacked me awake!"

"Hold it!" Wright barked. "About what time did you regain consciousness?"

"No offense, sir, but how am I supposed to know that? I was unconscious!"

"Oh… right."

"According to the report from the officer that woke up the witness, it was about 5:30," Miles said.

"He hit me right in the head too!" Meekins cried.

_Well, it's not as if there's anything in there…_

"I WOKE UP CRYING TEARS OF PAIN!" the witness continued.

"That's nice…" the judge said. "Er, I mean… it's nice that you recovered, that is…"

"When I came around though, I made sure to finish my mission, sir!"

"Your 'mission'…?" Wright asked.

"Yes, sir! The Blue Badger, sir! I returned him to the entrance before things got out of hand!"

_Personally, I'd do something about that bleeding hand first._

The judge banged his gavel. "I believe we now have a fairly accurate picture of what happened," he said.

"Yes, Your Honor," Miles agreed. "Only one thing remains unclear. Was the man this officer 'murdered,' really the victim?"

"Um…" Meekins cut in.

"Yes, Officer Meekins?" the judge asked.

"With regard to that, sir…" He took out a blue video cassette. "Take a look at this. It was sent to my cell. Chief Gant delivered it to me just this morning sir!"

"The Chief?" Miles asked. _Why wasn't I told about this?_

"Delivered it…?" Wright finished.

"What is that?" the judge asked. "A… videotape?"

"Yes, sir! Meekins answered. "That's absolutely right, sir! A videotape, sir! IT CONTAINS FOOTAGE FROM THE SECURITY CAMERA IN THE EVIDENCE ROOM."

"Objection!" Miles roared, banging on his desk. "What!? But I specifically asked if there was such a tape, and was told it had been mistakenly erased!"

"That's quite a mistake," the judge said.

_There are too many miscommunications for this all to be accidental. Someone in the Department must be trying to get me in trouble! But why!?_

"I just do what I'm told, sir," Meekins sobbed. "It's the only thing I'm really good at."

The judge banged his gavel. "Well then, let's have a look!" he said. "Show us the video of you murdering the victim!"

"Oh… Please stop using hat word, 'murder,' sir! It scares me!"

The bailiff brought in a television and played the tape. Some wriggling piece of plywood was dancing around on-screen. What looked like Detective Goodman walked by the camera and opened his locker. Something fell out. The camera panned away. A moment later, Meekins walked over and confronted "Goodman." The camera panned back to the entrance. When it panned back, "Goodman" pulled a knife on the idiot. The two proceeded to fight, but the camera panned away. When the camera panned back, "Goodman" was nowhere to be seen and Meekins was lying against the wall, unconscious.

Miles was hunched over his desk when the video stopped.

"Well, I believe we're all thinking the same thing," the judge said, breaking the silence. "How can we deal with these unsettling feelings stirred within us…?"

Miles hit his desk. "What the hell was that wriggling piece of plywood!?" he barked.

"Sir!" Meekins replied, saluting. "That is the pride and joy of the entire Criminal Affairs Department, sir! It's the Blue Badger, sir!"

_That _thing_ is the Blue Badger that Gumshoe was talking so proudly about!?_

"Yes, well anyway…" the judge said, "this tape seems to prove that the witness did indeed encounter… er, 'someone' in the evidence room, and some sort of… er, 'activity' did take place…"

Miles slammed his desk. "Your Honor…" he said, "instead of relying on clearly incomplete footage, the witness's testimony will suffice." He pointed at Meekins. "Is that alright with you, Officer Meekins?"

"Yes, sir!" Meekins exclaimed. "As you wish, sir! His face can't be clearly seen in the video, but there's no question that the other person was Detective Goodman, sir! I mean, he opened the locker, which required Detective Goodman's fingerprint to do! The locker he opened is unquestionably Detective Goodman's locker, sir! SO IT MUST BE HIM! NO ONE ELSE COULD HAVE UNLOCKED IT!"

"What's this about a fingerprint?" the judge asked.

"Each detective has been given a locker, equipped with a fingerprint-activated lock," Miles explained. "These locks ensure that each locker can only be opened by the detective it belongs to."

"Intriguing… That would mean… the victim at the crime scene would have to have been Detective Goodman."

_Using that logic alone, yes, but it's impossible for Goodman to have been there._

"Very well!" the judge continued. "The defense may begin its cross-examination!"

"Tell me, were you able to get a good look at him?" Wright asked Meekins. "At the face of the man who attacked you with a knife?"

"S-sir!" Meekins barked. "If you must label people as having 'seen' or 'not seen' the man's face… I believe I would be classified as… the latter?"

"The latter? But you were standing right in front of him, were you not?"

"More to the point," the judge added, "you are the person who fought him, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes sir!" Meekins replied. "But… I didn't get a clear look at his face, sir. I'm not the kind of guy who looks directly at people when talking with them, you see…"

_This from a man who makes a living out of confronting criminals…_

"STILL, I'M SURE IT WAS HIM!" Meekins whined through his megaphone. "I'D BET MY BADGE ON IT!"

"But you don't know that for sure, do you?" Wright asked. "You never actually saw Detective Goodman's face."

"Well… I suppose you might say that. That is, if you must label people as having 'seen' or 'not seen' it."

"Since his face can't be identified in the video, only you can verify it," the judge said.

"W-w-why is everyone l-looking at me? If I had to label your stares as 'disturbing' or—"

Miles hit his desk. "Meekins!" he shouted.

"Eek!" Meekins's handcuffs caught on the strap holding his ID and he choked briefly.

_If I had to label this guy as" low IQ" or "negative IQ", I believe he would be classified as the latter._

"Having seen a questionable video at best," Miles said, "we are not in the best of moods. Now please be more certain when you testify!"

"Y-y-yes, sir!" Meekins stuttered.

"You claimed the man who brandished a knife on you was Bruce Goodman. Tell us why you are positive it was him!"

"I mean, he opened the locker, which required Detective Goodman's fingerprint to do! The locker he opened is unquestionably Detective Goodman's locker, sir! SO IT MUST BE HIM! NO ONE ELSE COULD HAVE UNLOCKED IT!"

"Hold it!" Wright shouted, slamming his desk. "However, the most important detail is not shown in this video… the man's face!"

"S-sir! If I may say something, sir!"

"Please do," the judge said. "After all, you are the one being examined."

"I don't understand why the man's face is so important in this case, sir! I mean, it was his hand that opened the fingerprint lock… and it was his hand that tried to thrust his knife into my body, sir! MY UNSETTLED STATE CAN TESTIFY ENOUGH TO THIS, SIR!"

"Yes, you have a point. The footage doesn't lie."

"That is… unless the defense can find a problem with it?" Miles taunted.

"Mr. Wright!" Ema chirped. "Let's check the Court Record again!"

Wright looked at his information.

"Regarding the video contained on this tape," he said, "there is one thing in particular that seems rather strange."

"Strange?" the judge asked.

"This contradiction leads to the possibility that…" He hit his desk. "the man may not be Detective Goodman."

"What? This video contains such a contradiction?"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. He then smiled tauntingly and shrugged. "Interesting… Your Honor, I have a proposal.

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"I propose we have the defense point out to us this alleged 'contradiction' in the video."

"Very well, proposal accepted," the judge said. "Let us further inspect this piece of evidence." He banged his gavel. "I will now play the security tape. Mr. Wright. Please show us this contradiction you speak of."

"You can do it, Mr. Wright!" Ema said. "It's set up so you can Fast Forward, Rewind or Pause the video. Just take a good look and be sure to point out the right thing!"

"Please don't play it too many times," Meekins requested. "I-I can't stand watching this video!"

_And I can't stand this soon-to-be-impoverished imbecile's whining._

"Now then, Mr. Wright," the judge said. "Please enlighten us! Where is the contradiction that indicates the man may not be Detective Goodman?"

Wright pressed the pause button on the remote control when the camera took its first look at Goodman's locker. He then slammed his desk and pointed at the locker.

"The thing that's strange about this video… has got to be this!" He looked at Meekins. "Officer Meekins."

"Sir!" he barked, saluting. "D-do you mean me, sir?"

"As I understand it, the locker apparatus works like this: When you grab the handle, a sensor reads your fingerprint. If the print matches the registered data, the light turns on and the lock is released."

"A-according to my very limited experience, that's the way I understand it, sir!"

Wright banged on his desk. "If so, then something is seriously wrong with this picture!" He had the video play again from the start. He paused it when "Goodman" reached for the locker door. "When the victim reaches for the handle to open the locker… Let's rewind to a little earlier…" The video rewound to the first time the camera was pointing at the locker. "Here! Notice the light?"

"What's this!?" the judge blathered. "It's… already lit!"

Wright nodded. "Precisely my point, Your Honor. The locker was already open before the victim grabbed the handle!"

"AAAAAAHHH!!" Meekins screeched, choking himself with his ID strap again.

The judge banged his gavel to silence the gallery.

"Order!" he barked. "Order! What's the meaning of this!?"

"It's very simple, Your Honor," Wright answered. "The locker wasn't locked on the day of the crime!"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. He struck his desk with his right hand. "But the locker locks are controlled by an electronic system. When a door is shut, a sensor is triggered and the locker is automatically locked!"

"Oh, I know!" the judge chimed in. "It must have broken down! Of course, I'm not an expert in this…"

"That's not likely, Your Honor. The sensor would detect and report any malfunction."

"Oh well. It just goes to show novices should keep their mouths shut."

_If every novice did that, I'd be on death row._

"So then, Mr. Wright," the judge continued. "Do you have an explanation?"

"Me, Your Honor?" Wright asked.

"Yes. Why wasn't the locker locked?"

"Me, Your Honor?" he asked again, this time in a cold sweat. He thought for a moment, then put his right hand behind his head, grinning stupidly. "Yes, well. You see… This isn't exactly my field…" He turned to Ema. "What do you think, Miss 'Scientific Investigator'?"

"Huh?" she chirped. "Oh, um…" She put her pencil eraser against her cheek in thought. "Maybe something, like, jammed the electronic system?"

Wright looked at the video again, the look on his face indicating that he thought something else was wrong.

"Yeah, I thought so too!" Ema said, noticing Wright's reaction. "There's got to be another clue somewhere in this footage!"

The judge banged his gavel.

"Very well," he said. "Let's inspect the video once more. The locker wasn't locked… Mr. Wright. Please point out the cause for this!"

Wright took out the remote control and played the video again. He paused a brief moment after "Goodman" opened the locker. Something was falling out.

"Take that!" Wright yelled, hitting his desk. "Please watch closely. This is the continuation of the part I showed you earlier." He replayed up to that portion.

"What's this?" the judge asked, noticing the object. "Something white fell out of the locker!"

"But sir!" Meekins interrupted, saluting. "It's been my experience that things fall out when doors are opened! I often fall out and roll great distances when I open my car door, sir!"

"Objection!" Wright yelled. "We can't be sure that item was in the locker to begin with."

"What do you mean?" the judge asked.

"The sensor triggers the lock when the door is shut… What if something was inserted, say, between the sensor and the door?"

"In… Inserted…?"

"This white thing wasn't inside the locker… It was stuck between the door and the sensor!"

"Oh, I understand now, sir!" Meekins exclaimed, hitting his mitten of a bandaged hand with his good hand. "It's just like my tie! Two out of three times it gets stuck in the door when I get out of my patrol vehicle, sir! Instead of the door closing, my tie chokes me!"

_Aren't officers supposed to wear clip-on ties to avoid that kind of problem!?_

"But the object would have to be extremely thin to fit in the door," the judge said.

"Not only that," Miles added, "it would also have to block electrical currents… It would need to be an insulator."

"Yes, and insulator! But at the crime scene…"

"there just might have been something that fits the description," Wright finished.

"But s-sir!" Meekins cried. "By 'insulator,' you don't mean…" He trailed off.

"Very well!" the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "Will the defense please present the relevant evidence! What was this insulator that was stuck in the locker door?"

"Take that!" Wright said, holding a rubber glove. "I found this near the locker: a thin rubber glove."

"But we can't be sure that was in the victim's locker."

"It has a tag that says, 'SL-9 Incident.'"

_SL-9 AGAIN!?_

"The video seems to depict the victim opening the locker," Wright continued, "but that isn't the case! The lit lamp attests to this." He pounded on his desk. "On the day of the crime, even I could have opened that locker! Is this not so, Officer Meekins!?"

"Sir…" he said. "It would appear so, sir!" He choked on his ID strap again. The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Order!" he shouted three times. "So are we to believe then, that the 'victim' whom this witness stabbed in the evidence room… was not Detective Goodman?"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "Do not be misled, Your Honor."

"What do you mean, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"The defense has merely demonstrated that possibility, and nothing more. The 'victim' in the video was indeed Bruce Goodman. The prosecution will offer one more testimony to prove this!"

"What!?" Wright snapped.

"Officer Meekins, please testify about this."

"Sir!" he barked, saluting. "M-me, sir!? I'm not sure what you're referring to, sir…"

_The other bit of proof that Goodman was in the evidence room, stupid._

"O-oh!" Meekins shouted, remembering. "You mean that, sir! Of course, sir!"

The judge banged his gavel.

"Very well, begin your testimony!" he ordered.

"There's one other thing that proves the man was Detective Goodman, sir!" Meekins explained, saluting. "To enter the evidence room, one must use their ID card! When an ID card is used, there's a record of it!" He hit his bandaged hand with his good hand. "At the time of the crime, the detective had used his card!"

"An ID card record. I see…"

"I have the ID card record right here, Your Honor," Miles stated, holding a copy. "The ID used at 5:14… is that of the victim."

"Just before the crime, hmm? Yes, without a doubt this is the victim's ID! However, one thing does strike me as unusual… Several hundred cases should have been due for transferal. Why were there so few people using this room?"

"This particular evidence room is only used for storing certain special cases."

"'Special' cases…?" Wright asked.

"Extremely violent cases involving police staff."

"Just hearing that makes my hair stand on end!" Ema commented.

_Naturally, SL-9 had to be one of those cases…_

"There were only a few cases up for transferal there," Miles continued, "and most were cleared up by noon."

"Right…" the judge said. "I see. Now, let us move on to the cross-examination."

Wright hit his desk. "Wait one moment, Officer Meekins," he said.

"I-I'm not good at waiting, sir!" Meekins replied.

"I have the victim's ID card right here. I found it at the crime scene."

"That makes sense," the judge said. Wright shook his head.

"When I say, 'crime scene,' I'm not referring to the evidence room at the Police Department. I mean the 'other' crime scene… The underground parking lot at the Prosecutor's Office!"

_And it appears Lana will be going to prison after all._

"Your Honor…" Wright said. "I have one more piece of evidence to present." He held up a Lost Item Report. "It's a very important clue regarding the victim's ID card."

"A… Lost Item Report?" the judge asked. "It's only half completed,"

"but it shows that detective Goodman had lost 'something' on the day of the crime. Something important enough to fill out this report."

"Let me guess," Miles said. "You believe this 'something' to be his ID card, right?"

"I can't say for sure… but there is a high probability! On the day of the crime, Detective Goodman was not carrying his card!"

The gallery started murmuring, cut off by a whack of the judge's gavel.

"Order! Order!" he demanded. "So now… what does this all mean?"

"It can only mean one thing," Wright explained. "It doesn't require much thought! The man Officer Meekins encountered in the evidence room… was not Detective Goodman, but rather the man who stole his ID card!"

The gallery started up again, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Order! Order! Order!" the judge yelled. "Does the prosecution have a response?"

Miles waited until everyone was quiet, his arms patiently crossed.

"I have only one thing to say to the defense," he said. "Bravo, Mr. Wright."

"B-bravo…?" Wright stammered.

"Allow me to summarize the defense's argument. At 5:15 PM on the day of the crime, the man Officer Meekins encountered in the evidence room was not Detective Goodman. There are two grounds to support this. First, the locker in the evidence room was already unlocked. Second, the victim lost his ID card. Am I correct so far, Mr. Wright?"

"Yes…" Wright said, the look on his face making it apparent that he was confused.

"That being the case, we must inevitably arrive at a single conclusion: If the 'victim' in this video is a fake… then the murder in the evidence room is also fake! In other words, the security camera does not show the instant of the murder."

"Uh… Th-that is…" Wright put his hand behind his head. "Well, I guess that's right…"

"Is something wrong, Mr. Wright? Only moments ago you seemed content to be pointing your finger around."

"This isn't good…" Wright muttered. Miles did his "evil smile."

"Well, well… It seems you've finally realized exactly what you've gone to such lengths to prove!"

"Explain yourself, Mr. Edgeworth!" the judge requested.

"The defense has already done the explaining for me," Miles said. "The victim in this video is a fake… which means a murder did not take place at the Police Department at 5:15 on the day of the crime."

"So…"

Miles struck his desk. "So the real crime could only take place at one location: the underground parking lot at the Prosecutor's Office! The murderer being Ms. Lana Skye, the defendant! The evidence is compelling! A trustworthy witness observed the moment the defendant used the murder weapon!"

"Aaaah!" Wright screamed, sweat pouring down his face.

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"The activity in the evidence room still leaves many questions unanswered:" he said. "Who exactly was the 'victim' Officer Meekins encountered? And where did this person disappear to…? However… This trial's purpose is to examine only the murder of Detective Goodman."

Miles took a bow. "Just so, Your Honor," he agreed.

"Mr. Wright!" Ema cried. "You have to do something, or else Lana…" She trailed off. Miles couldn't tell from the distance, but he thought he saw tears in Ema's eyes.

"Objection!" Wright yelled, banging on his desk. "One moment, Your Honor!"

"What now, Mr. Wright?" Miles asked. "Don't tell me you're objecting to what you've just proven."

"Of course not. But I almost walked right into the prosecution's trap!"

"What are you talking about?"

_As far as I can tell, you did walk—quite clumsily, I may add—into my trap._

"This cross-examination has proven one thing and one thing only," Wright said. "The security video did not show the actual murder." He hit his desk. "However! It cannot be said that it is unrelated to the murder in the parking lot. Specifically, large amounts of blood traces were found in the evidence room! The defense demands further examination into the truth of the matter!"

"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge said after a pause.

"Yes, Your Honor?" Miles asked.

"If this court were to examine this further, other witnesses will be necessary. Is the prosecution prepared?"

"I'm sorry, Your Honor… The prosecution considered the incident at the Police Department to be unrelated. We have not prepared any other witnesses for this incident."

Wright looked as though he had an idea.

"Mr. Wright…" Ema said, catching on. "Do you mean…"

"Your Honor," Wright called. "The defense would like to request a specific witness."

"Oh?" the judge asked. "Whom do you have in mind?"

"Someone we have reason to believe knows the truth… The truth behind the activities that took place in the evidence room."

"The prosecution requests to hear this person's name before deciding whether or not to comply," Miles said.

The judge banged his gavel. "Very well then, Mr. Wright!" he said. "This person whom you would have testify… What is his or her name?"

"Officer… Jake Marshall," Wright said.

"Why him?" Miles asked.

"He's in charge of the evidence room. I feel we should hear what he has to say."

"The prosecution agrees to the defense's request. Since he was responsible for guarding the room, we should hear his testimony. Fortunately he works in the Police Department." _Assuming he's at his post for a change. _"We shouldn't need longer than 20 minutes to prepare."

The judge banged his gavel and nodded. "Very well," he said. "The court will take a 30 minute recess while the witness is subpoenaed. Will the prosecution please prepare the witness during this time?"

"We will, Your Honor."

"Court in recess!"

* * *

Miles waited by the doors to the Defendant Lobby. He had heard Gumshoe's voice coming from in there. There was some trick up the defense's sleeve, and he wanted in on it.

"No, Lana!" Ema's voice cried from inside the lobby. "That's over with! No!!" Suddenly, Ema burst out through the doors and ran out crying. Miles almost lost his balance from the shock.

"Uh, ya know what?" Miles heard Gumshoe say to Wright. "I just remembered… I gotta be somewhere. Sorry pal, but I'm outta here!"

Gumshoe ran out a moment later and turned to leave. Miles extended his leg and tripped the good detective, who apparently had not noticed him.

"Oof!" Gumshoe puffed as he landed.

"Wherever you're going, it can wait," Miles said as Gumshoe got up. "What were you doing with Wright?"

"He just asked for the SL-9 files, sir."

_That would explain Ema's outburst…_

"And you gave him the files?" Miles asked.

"D-did I do something wrong?"

"Could I see the request?"

Gumshoe handed Miles a piece of paper. The handwriting was unmistakable. Miles chuckled.

"Our lovely defendant should try reading Wright's handwriting before trying to imitate it," Miles said, "let alone trying to imitate his way of speaking."

Gumshoe whimpered.

"Don't keep this kind of thing from me, Gumshoe," Miles said calmly. "If there's any case I need no doubts about, it's this one."

"S-sorry, sir…"

"Keep anything else from me and you can expect to do your grocery shopping at a homeless shelter."

"Yes, sir."

"You may go."

Gumshoe walked off, dragging his feet.

_So you think this case is connected to SL-9? I should have figured as much. The knife, the glove, the victim, and then these files… But we can deal with the connection after we find out who the killer in this case is._

* * *

The judge banged his gavel to bring court back into session.

"The court will now reconvene for the trial of Ms. Lana Skye," he said.

"Allow me to call the next witness to the stand:" Miles said, "the officer in charge of guarding the evidence room on the day of the crime."

Marshall took the stand, drinking something out of a small canteen.

"Witness, please state your name and occupation," Miles requested.

"Me, pardner?" Marshall asked. "Oh, I'm just a man, same as you, wanderin' the trails of civilization,"

"occasionally helping the elderly cross intersections when needed," Miles finished.

"Oh, I know!" the judge exclaimed. "You're a 'patrolman'!"

"As for my name, if you listen hard 'nuff, you can hear the howling wind calling it out."

"To be exact, it's Jake Marshall," Miles said. _Clint Eastwood's biggest fan._ "…Your Honor." Wright was already sweating. "Now, Mr. Marshall. Let me ask you something. You were in charge of guarding the evidence room on the day the crime took place. Is this correct?"

"According to the papers, pardner."

_Get rid of that accent, Marshall. You and I both know it's fake._

"What do you mean?" the judge asked Marshall.

"A desperado's soul is as boundless as the desert sands. No 'paper' can sum it up."

_But a paper can certainly sum up your salary._

The judge banged his gavel.

"Maybe it's best we get on with this quickly," he said. Please share with us your testimony of the day of the crime… in English!"

_Trust me, Your Honor, you wouldn't want to hear him faking Spanish._

"My job was to keep a wary eye on that bone orchard," Marshall testified. "They said I was supposed to make rounds three times a day, but that ain't my style. Besides, the room's protected by two security systems, anyway. If I remember right, I was at a street-side saloon at the time it went down. I'm just an innocent travelin' man, so if you're out of ammo it's time I hit the trail."

_Innocent traveling men don't betray a lady's trust, Mr. Eastwood._

"I can't say I particularly care for your attitude…" the judge remarked.

"I can't say I care for your beard," Marshall shot back, "but you don't see me complainin'."

"Wait a minute…" Wright said. "What do you mean by 'two security systems'?"

"I mean the security cameras and the ID card reader. I reckon even a cowpoke like you knows about those."

"Yes, well, what about the fingerprint activated locks inside the evidence room?"

"Fingerprint activated locks? What kind of new-fangled doohickeys are those?"

Wright hunched over in an exasperated sweat.

"He's not that good with machines…" Miles commented, "or with following orders."

"Everyone's got their weaknesses, now don't they, Mr. Prosecutor?"

_Some more prominent than others, Mr. Layabout._

"This one seems like trouble," the judge said, shaking his head. "Okay Mr. Wright, he's all yours."

"Officer Marshall," Wright said. "Doesn't it strike you as odd? That is, you being called in to testify like this?"

Marshall was silent.

"After all, you weren't in the security room at the time of the crime," Wright continued.

"And yet you dragged me down here," Marshall replied. "Explain yourself, pardner."

"It's quite simple. You left a very large trail behind at the scene. Or, to be exact… a handprint."

"Hmph! Listen real good, pardner. Like I said, I'm the caretaker of that crypt. I pay my respects… that is, make my rounds, about once a month. It's only natural my fingerprints would be in there."

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "I only wish it were, Officer," He paused to hit his desk. "but you see… your fingerprints were covered in blood!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Witness!" the judge cried. "What's the meaning of this!? Your bloodstained fingerprints were at the crime scene…!?"

"The blood was wiped away, however!" Wright said. "A luminol test clearly revealed this! Well, Officer Marshall?"

"…It seems to me…" he started, "there ain't a person in this room with a head on his shoulders."

"I take it you have an explanation then, Officer Marshall?" Miles asked. He pointed at the witness. "About the 'bloodstained' fingerprints?"

The judge whacked his gavel.

"Very well," he said, "you may begin your testimony about your fingerprints, found at the scene of the crime!"

"Like I said, it's only natural for my fingerprints to be in that evidence room," Marshall explained. "One of them just happened to be at the same place as the bloodstained handprint. The murderer touched the locker where my fingerprint was by chance. The bloodstain and the fingerprint are completely unrelated. Or didn't you know the murderer was wearing gloves? See? I had nothing to do with it."

"Hmm… The witness's explanation appears valid, although there's room for doubt."

"Life wouldn't be fun without any doubt, pardner."

_Although court proceedings would be a lot more efficient._

"The defense may now cross-examine the witness," the judge said.

"Like I said, it's only natural for my fingerprints to be in that evidence room," Marhsall repeated.

"Hold it!" Wright said. "That's because you… how did you put it… 'pay your respects,' once a month?"

"Yeah, that's right. That, and one more thing… That locker happens to be mine."

"What!?" the judge asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said. That's the locker I used when I was a detective… the locker I still use. All that's in there now is a heap of broken dreams."

"I see…" Wright said.

"It'd be strange if my prints WEREN'T all over that locker. One of them just happened to be at the same place as the bloodstained handprint."

"So then… What about the bloody handprint?"

"Wasn't mine. It's no mystery."

"Please explain," the judge requested.

"My locker is covered with my fingerprints. It just so happened… The murderer touched the locker where my fingerprint was by chance."

Wright banged on his desk. "The chances of that happening are a million to one!" he shouted.

"On the contrary, one could argue just the opposite. The chances of that not happening are a million to one! Get one thing straight, pardner. You ain't gonna get no reward for me with a mere fingerprint. You wanna know why? The bloodstain and the fingerprint are completely unrelated."

"Unrelated?"

"They're as different as night and day. Kinda like 'cereal' an' 'serial.' One's got to do with breakfast while the other's a type of murder."

"He's right…" the judge said, "although seemingly alike, they're totally different."

"Or didn't you know the murderer was wearing gloves?"

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "How do you know that!?"

"I may be a loner, but I still do my job. I keep up on the reports."

"There was a bloodstain at the scene, thought to be left by the murderer," Miles stated.

"That's right, it was found on Detective Gumshoe's locker," Wright recalled.

"However, no fingerprints were detected on that handprint."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "So that would mean… the murderer, wearing gloves, happened to place his hand on top of Officer Marshall's fingerprint."

"That's the only logical conclusion," Marshall said. "Are you starting to get the picture, pardner?"

"The picture…?" Wright stammered.

"This seal of blood… in the desert, it's just food for the buzzards. There's only one reality, and that's this." Marshall motioned to the television. "So long as my trail isn't in there… you can't say otherwise."

The judge banged his gavel. "This isn't getting us anywhere, Mr. Wright," he said. "Please consider carefully where you're going with this cross-examination."

"Y-yes, Your Honor," Wright said.

"Now then, continue your testimony, Officer Marshall."

"Too bad it wasn't me in that video, right, pardner?" Marshall taunted.

"What do you mean by that?" Wright demanded.

"You want to tie me to this crime, isn't that right, pardner? If so, that video is the only direct evidence you have."

"Objection! But that video is useless! It's full of blind spots!"

"Blind spots?" the judge asked.

"Places you can't see! The camera's panning back and forth, the floor isn't shown… If someone was familiar with the camera's position, he could leave the room without being caught on tape!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted, hitting his desk. "We don't have time for your speculations, Mr. Wright."

"Well, Mr. Wright," the judge said. "If you can show us evidence in this video that indicates Officer Marshall was present, please do so now."

"Very well," Wright said with a nod. "Allow me to point out your mistake, Officer Marshall!"

"Tread carefully, Mr. Wright," Miles warned, "or you might wind up being the one making the mistake."

The judge banged his gavel. "Now then," he said, "let's have another look at the video. Show us this incriminating evidence of the witness… Officer Jake Marshall!"

Wright fast-forwarded past the "fight" and paused when the camera was looking toward the door. He pointed to a piece of cloth sticking out of Marshall's locker, then hit his desk.

"Bringing our attention back to the security camera…" he started, "is a mistake I'm afraid you'll soon not forget, Officer Marshall."

"The days are short in Texas… and so are our tempers," Marshall said. "Could you sum up what you have to say in eight words or less?"

"Very well," Wright said with a nod. He banged on his desk, then pointed at Marshall. "You can clearly be seen in this video!"

"Exactly eight words… Not bad, pardner."

"The key… lies in a certain locker shown in the video."

"See this locker that has a white cloth sticking out?" the judge asked. "This is the witness's locker."

"Now then, let's rewind the video a bit."

The video rewound until it was looking at Marshall's locker again. The cloth wasn't there.

"Oh!" the judge exclaimed. "The white cloth… it's gone! What's the meaning of this, Officer Marshall!?"

"When the crime took place," Wright explained, "the white cloth wasn't there. Then… it suddenly appeared! There's only one explanation:" He slammed his desk. "Officer Marshall! You were in the evidence room at the time of the crime! What's more, you opened your locker when the camera was turned away!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel once.

"Order! Order!" the judge yelled. "It would seem that's the only—"

"Hold your horses!" Marshall interrupted. "Sorry, pardner… but you got the wrong man. So what if my locker was opened? That doesn't mean I'm the one who opened it!"

_Yes it does, you twit._

"The murderer needed to hide something," Marshall continued, "so he opened a locker and stuck it in. It's not my fault he happened to choose mine!"

The court was silent.

"Why's everyone staring at me like I'm a wanted man?" Marshall demanded when he noticed.

"Uh, I hate to rain on your parade," Wright said, "but you're the only person who can open that particular locker."

"Oh yeah? I call your bluff. You say I opened that locker… Now prove it!"

"Take that!" Wright yelled as he tossed a file to Marshall. Marshall looked at it.

"A… 'fingerprint' sensor?"

Wright nodded. "We talked about this earlier today. The lockers can only be opened by the detectives they belong to."

"W-what kinda crazy talk is this!?"

Wright pounded on his desk. "So, sheriff! What do you have to say… in eight words or less?"

"I only got one word for you, pardner. NOOOOO!!"

The gallery began yammering until the judge banged his gavel.

"Order! Order! Order!" he shouted. "Witness! Explain yourself!"

"If this is a joke, it's the worst I've ever heard…"

"I assure you this is no joke, Officer Marshall," Wright replied. "Now then, please tell us what you were doing in the evidence room at the time of the crime!"

Marshall said nothing and simply tried to break a strip of jerky he had brought along.

"Olé!" the judge barked. "Please answer the question!"

_Leave the Spanish to the people who speak it, Your Honor_.

"That's alright, Officer Marshall," Wright taunted. "I believe we can figure the rest out from here."

"We can?" the judge asked.

"Have a look at these floor plans," Wright said, handing a copy to the bailiff to give it to the judge. "There is no place for someone to hide in the evidence room. Yet, Officer Meekins didn't see Officer Marshall."

"If that's so, then… where was the witness?"

"It seems Mr. Wright has an answer," Miles said.

The judge banged his gavel.

"Well then?" he requested. "Let's hear it. Where was Officer Marshall at the time of the crime?"

Wright hit his desk. "Officer Marshall was standing right here!" he yelled, indicating the victim's location.

"There? But that's… That's where the victim, Detective Goodman, was!"

Wright shook his head. "Correct… unless the man wasn't Detective Goodman." He struck his desk. "I believe the 'victim' in the video is… Officer Marshall! It was you, dressed up like Detective Goodman!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted, hitting his desk. "But that's preposterous! Officer Meekins witnessed the detective at the crime scene! Onde he saw the man's face, he'd know for sure!"

"Objection!" Wright countered. "May I point out though, that Officer Meekins did not know Detective Goodman. He also testified about the man's reaction when confronted. Something about the Officer's story puzzled me. If the man had his ID card, why didn't he just show it?"

"Yes, he would have needed it to enter the evidence room, so he must have been carrying it," the judge agreed.

"The answer is simple. He couldn't show it."

_What? Why not?_

"As you can see," Wright continued, "Detective Goodman's picture is on his ID card."

"Oh, I get it," the judge said.

"If he showed that, his cover would have been blown! Officer Meekins would have realized the man wasn't Detective Goodman. Do you have anything to say to this, Officer Marshall?"

"You've got quite an imagination, pardner," Marshall said after a moment. "We got a term for that. It's called 'circumstantial evidence.'"

"Circumstantial evidence…?"

"You're gonna have to do better than that to break a detective. Unless you have hard evidence proving I dressed up as the victim…"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I can't say I care for your uncooperative disposition…"

"I can't say I care for your beard, but you don't see me complainin'."

_This sounds too familiar…_

"Well, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Do you have any evidence? Any evidence proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Officer Marshall dressed up as the victim?"

"Well…" Wright started, but not finishing. He hunched over and started sweating.

_Ludicrous. You point out problems I couldn't find, and then you trip on the last blow?_

"I can see the fear in your eyes, pardner," Marshall gloated. "Seems like you're the one who couldn't take the desert heat!"

"Ack!"

"Hmph," Miles laughed. "It looks like your lack of experience has finally been exposed. I'll pass onto you what someone told me when I was just starting out. When you're run into a wall with no place to go, return to the basics."

"The basics…" Wright echoed.

"Why do you think this locker was opened in the first place?" Miles asked.

"What do you mean?" the judge replied.

"There's no reason for Officer Marshall to open his locker at the time of the crime. Yet he did, despite the chance it might be discovered later as it has been."

"According to the defense's argument, Officer Jake Marshall dressed up as Detective Goodman at the time of the crime. Then, after the crime was 'committed,' he opened his own locker for some unknown reason."

"The fact that a white 'cloth' is sticking out of the locker seems to indicate that he opened it in order to put the cloth inside," Miles said.

"So… just what exactly is this piece of cloth?"

"Perhaps…" Wright said. "Perhaps the video is the key to all our unanswered questions."

The judge whacked his gavel.

"Very well," he said. "Let's take yet another look at the security tape. After committing the crime, the witness opened the locker to put away the white cloth. Please show us why the witness had to open his locker!"

Wright paused the video at the moment Meekins and "Goodman" were fighting. He pointed at the blood on "Goodman's" coat. He then hit his desk.

"For some reason," he began, "you disguised yourself as Detective Goodman, and entered the evidence room. I don't know what that reason was… yet."

"'Yet'?" Marshall repeated.

"However, something unexpected happened. Officer Meekins barged in on you. When asked to show your ID card, you pulled a knife on him. However! Officer Meekins panicked, and the white coat you were wearing was soiled with blood!"

"A bloody white coat…" the judge commented.

"You couldn't just walk out like that, so you hid the coat in your locker."

"Not bad, huh 'pardner'?" Marshall asked. The gallery started up, but quieted down before the judge needed to use his gavel.

"Now then, Officer Marshall," the judge said. "Are you ready to tell us the truth?"

"Looks like I underestimated y'all. I hope you're happy now, Mr. Edgeworth."

_Happy about what?_

"Two years ago…" Marshall continued, "if you were only half as persistent then as you are today, we all wouldn't have to be here, now would we?"

_What are you blathering about!?_

"Officer Marshall!" Wright barked, hitting his desk. "Tell the court what you did… all of it."

"Alright. It seems the time has come."

_I have a bad feeling about this…_

"I had to do it that day," Marshall said. "I couldn't just stand by and let it die. I stole the detective's ID and dressed like him. I planned to take out the evidence. I wasn't expecting Officer Meekins. I knocked him out and managed to escape. I knew which areas wouldn't be caught on the camera. There wasn't any murder in the evidence room at 5:15."

"So the supposed 'victim' was really you…" the judge said.

"But there's one thing I still don't understand," Miles said. "Large quantities of blood traces were found on the floor of the evidence room. If no one was murdered, then how could that be?"

"Officer Meekins managed to cut his own hand," Marshall answered. "My guess is he's the donor."

_Either Meekins suffers from hemophilia, or there's something else to that blood trace._

"When you say 'it,'" Wright pressed, "you mean…"

"Do you even have to ask, pardner?" Marshall replied.

_SL-9, naturally. Why can't I get away from that cursed case?_

"Two years have passed since that case was closed," Miles said. "It was going to completely end with the transferal that day."

"Not if I have anything to do with it. That incident's not over!"

"But what did you hope to accomplish by sneaking into the evidence room?" Wright asked.

"When a case is closed, only the detective who was in charge of it can look through the evidence. I wanted to have a look at it myself one more time… no matter what the cost. I don't care what anyone says, pardner. That case is mine."

_I'd hardly call it yours, Marshall._

"That day was my last chance," Marshall continued. "That's why I… I stole the detective's ID and dressed like him. I planned to take out the evidence."

"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "Why did you disguise yourself as Detective Goodman?"

"If I didn't make it look like Goodman was carrying out the evidence transferal, I'd be arrested for stealing evidence, which wouldn't get me anywhere."

"So you did it to fool the security camera," Miles said.

"And the detective's ID card?" the judge asked.

"I stole that the morning of the incident," Marshall replied. "I returned his ID card. I left it on the floor in the Prosecutor's Office parking lot."

"So essentially, you managed to succeed despite your lack of foresight."

"What do you mean… pardner?"

"I mean the fingerprint-activated lock, of course. No matter how well you disguise yourself, you can't change your fingerprints. Normally, that locker shouldn't have opened."

"I wasn't expecting Officer Meekins. I knocked him out—"

"Hold it!" Wright yelled. "You pulled a knife on Officer Meekins and tried to drive him off?"

"Let's just say I was a little surprised. I only planned on being in the evidence room for no more than five minutes. I didn't think anyone would actually come in during that short time.

"Officer Meekins…" the judge commented, "certainly is a one-in-a-million type of person. "Mistaking a detective for an intruder and demanding to be shown his ID…"

"I'll have to think a little more about his raise this year…" Miles said.

"Anyway," Marshall cut in, "he threw himself at me, and I ended up cutting him slightly."

_If you think Meekins is the one behind all that blood, I'd say you cut him more than just "slightly."_

"I'm sorry it had to turn out that way," Marshall continued, "with me knocking him out and everything."

"By the way, what happened to your knife?" Wright asked.

"Oh, you mean this one?" Marshall replied, shaving off a bit of his stubble with a knife.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "So, what happened next?"

"I managed to escape. I knew which areas wouldn't be caught on the camera."

"So you did your research beforehand," Wright said.

"Those who go into the desert unprepared don't live long, pardner. I didn't think it would make a difference, though. The security tape is erased every six hours. If all had gone as planned, no footage would have been left."

"However," Miles said, "you bloodied your coat in your struggle with Officer Meekins."

"If someone was in the security room when I came out, the jig would have been up. I opened my locker and stashed it in there."

"What was Officer Meekins doing during that time?" Wright asked.

"What else? He was sleeping like a baby."

"So what you're saying is," the judge started, "on that day…"

"There wasn't any murder in the evidence room at 5:15," Marshall finished.

"Hold it!" Wright shouted, hitting his desk. "But the blood found at the scene certainly indicates a crime took place!"

"What are you, blind? The 'victim' shown on that tape is me, and I'm not dead yet, pardner."

"So, you stole the evidence from the locker?" Miles asked, hoping to find a new issue with the case.

"Actually… no, I didn't."

"Why not?"

"When I opened the locker, the evidence was already gone."

"What!?" the judge cried. "Mr. Edgeworth. Where is that evidence?"

"It's still missing, Your Honor," Miles replied. _And I'll probably get blamed for it if I know the Bar Association._

The gallery started up.

Wright slammed his desk.

"Officer Marshall," he said. "May I ask you one thing?"

"Fire away, pardner," Marshall answered. "It's a free country. Just remember, I'm also free to decide whether or not to answer."

"Why did you do this? Stealing a detective's ID, injuring a police officer… This is no small offense!"

"Moreover," Miles added, "you're an officer yourself. This will have serious consequences. It can't just be forgiven with a simple cut in salary."

Marshall was silent for a moment, then he spoke. "Like I said. This isn't your case. This one is mine. And I'll do anything it takes to get an answer I'm satisfied with."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "The witness has an unusual amount of zeal. Let's hear more."

"I can't just forget the SL-9 Incident… You know why?"

"Officer Marshall," Wright said. "I think I understand. I think I know why you care so much about the SL-9 Incident."

"Sounds like you've been sipping too much cactus juice, pardner."

"I have the SL-9 Incident file here," Wright said, holding one form from it. "The name 'Marshall' is mentioned in here… in a list of murder victims. 'Neil Marshall'… Are you related to this man?"

"Neil Marshall…?" Miles asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure you heard the name," Marshall spat. "Two years ago… he received the same lousy prosecutor award you got."

"What!?" the judge barked. "A prosecutor…?"

"Now I remember…" Miles said. "Prosecutor Neil Marshall. He handled the SL-9 case before I did."

"That's right," Marshall confirmed. "He was killed… and the case fell into your hands."

"But what's his relation to you…?" the judge asked.

"He was my brother. He was investigating the murders with Damon Gant, Chief Detective at the time. The group of detectives I was part of worked under them. We were desperate to prosecute the killer. Joe Darke… My brother fought Darke and was killed. That was the first time Darke left behind any evidence. That was all we needed. He was arraigned and incarcerated. The case was finally closed… at least, according to the public records."

"What do you mean?"

"My brother couldn't have been killed by Joe Darke. I knew my brother better than anyone… No one could have beaten him in a fight."

"And that's it?" Miles scoffed. "That's your reason for your insane actions?"

_And I'm pretty sure your brother's not nearly as tough as you'd like to think._

"There's more to my brother's death than what the records say. No matter how much you try to hide it, you can't fool me."

_Let me guess: you're going to say I forged evidence in that case._

The judge banged his gavel.

"Well…" he started, "at least one thing's for certain. Now we know what happened at the Police Department on the day of the crime."

"That was the last day the SL-9 case could be reopened," Miles stated. "Not satisfied with its resolution, Officer Marshall planned to steal the evidence."

"Disguising himself as Detective Goodman," Wright added, "he entered the evidence room. Officer Meekins confronted him, so he rendered him unconscious and fled."

"Yes, this mystery has finally been cleared up. No murder took place at the Police Department that day!" _Meaning Lana really did do it… _"The things that happen by chance never cease to amaze… At exactly the same time as the murder at the Prosecutor's Office… this fake murder was going on at the Police Department."

The judge banged his gavel. "So if no one was murdered at the Police Department on the day of the crime," he said, "that means the murder in the Prosecutor's Office's parking lot was the real one."

"Which, in turn, means…" _I can barely say it… _"only one person could have committed the crime: Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye."

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "B-but wait! A verdict wasn't reached in yesterday's trial!"

Objection!" Miles countered, striking his desk. "Which is why we examined the incident at the Police Department today."

"But…!"

"There's only one reason the defendant was not convicted yesterday: there yet remained the mystery of the simultaneous murder at the Police Department."

"It seems to me… this boy's got the draw on you, pardner," Marshall added.

"All the mysteries at the Police Department have been uncovered. No contradictions…" he paused to hit his desk, "remain. The murder took place at the Prosecutor's Office! The only suspect is Lana Skye. There were no errors in the testimony of the witness, Angel Starr! If you have a response… make it one word or less."

"ARRRGHHHH!!" Wright screamed.

"I rest my case," Miles said, taking a bow.

The gallery started murmuring, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"It seems this trial has reached its conclusion," he said. "There's no room for doubt."

"Well done, Mr. Wright," Miles commented. "Thanks to you, I didn't need to waste any time disproving the alleged 'murder' at the Police Department."

The judge banged his gavel. "Now then, the time for the verdict has arrived."

_I guess it really was Lana… It's just so hard to believe…_

"This court finds the defendant…"

"Hold it!" a voice shouted. A moment later, Ema ran into the courtroom. "Y-your Honor! Wait!"

"Ema!" Wright yelped.

"The defense has an objection. A scientific objection! Right?"

"What do you mean, 'right?'"

"Mr. Wright," the judge called. "Are you this girl's guardian?"

_Hah. The day Wright watches over a teenage girl is the day he gets disbarred for forging evidence._

"Your Honor!" Wright replied. "Oh, uh… in a sense…"

"Please, Your Honor," Ema begged. "All I'm asking is for a minute of your time! Please hear me out! Mr. Edgeworth, please…"

_Her love for her sister is truly touching…_ "I don't want to leave any loose ends," Miles said after a moment. _If only because this is one case I need to be absolutely sure of…_ "You want a minute? I'll give you three."

"I… I was kind of in shock," Ema said, averting her eyes from anyone who looked at her. "I mean, finding out the SL-9 Incident referred to the Joe Darke Killings! But that's when I figured it out. I mean, what Officer Marshall was trying to do that day… So I knew his fingerprint had nothing to do with the crime. That left only one thing… the other handprint!"

"You mean the traces of blood found on Detective Gumshoe's locker…"

"But no fingerprints were found on it, right?" the judge asked.

"No," Ema admitted, "but I figured if I examined it scientifically… I'd be sure to find a clue! So I ran over there and looked at it again!"

_That print… What if it is related to the crime? But… If it was, Marshall's fingerprints would have been on it. Oh, Ema… Why must you prolong our agony?_

"So, did you find something?" Wright asked.

"Um… No!"

"Huh?"

"Sorry. I guess I'm not much of a scientific investigator after all."

_Poor Ema… She really thinks her sister's innocent… Then again, I'm still having trouble believing Lana would kill someone… even to protect someone else…_

"Um…" Wright sighed. "Is that all?"

"Please don't be mad," Ema half-said, half-cried. "I'm just a high school student! But Mr. Wright! Those traces of blood are the only clue we have! If we can't find something wrong with them… Please, Mr. Wright. You're a professional. If anyone can save Lana, it's you!"

"Me? Oh boy…"

_No wonder he's sweating. The risk of letting someone like Ema down would make anyone nervous._

The judge banged his gavel. "Time's up," he said. "Now then, Mr. Wright. Wirh regard to the incident at the Police Department… Does any reasonable doubt remain?"

"Um…"

"It appears the defense is troubled by the other blood mark," Miles said. He took out a copy of the evidence room floor plans. "Looking at the floor plans, a handprint was discovered around here. Is there a problem with this?"

"Mr. Wright!" Ema called. "I'm sorry I can't be of more use… But still! If you can't find anything wrong with that blood mark, Lana will be…"

_For both our sakes, Wright, please find something wrong that makes sense…_

"Please answer my question, Mr. Wright," the judge ordered. "We don't have all day."

"Y-yes, Your Honor," Wright stammered. He stopped to think, looking at the floor plans. "Objection!" He banged on his desk. "This handprint left at the crime scene… clearly shows a contradiction!"

_That pause… I should have figured he had nothing._

"The only thing that seems clear is you're grasping, Mr. Wright," Miles taunted.

_Maybe that'll help. He does tend to fare better after I taunt him, after all._

"You've been staring pretty intently at those floor plans," the judge noted. "Tell me… is there a problem with them?"

Wright continued thinking. He then seemed confident.

_Finally…_

"Take a good look at these floor plans," he said. "Something is missing."

"'Missing'…?" Miles asked. "You mean, something hasn't been drawn on there?"

"Yes. Something that, when drawn, will completely change the meaning of the blood mark!"

The judge banged his gavel and shook his head. "Let us pray the defense isn't simply trying to buy time. Very well, Mr. Wright! The question is… which item can prove something is missing in the floor plans?"

"Take that!" Wright shouted, holding a picture of the Blue Badger.

"What about that piece of plywood?" Marshall scoffed.

"The Blue Badger! Mascot of the police force! Defender of truth, guardian of proof!"

"Explain yourself, Mr. Wright," Miles demanded.

"Please look at the floor plans of the crime scene. The Blue Badger is not here."

"So?" Marshall asked.

"So watch what happens when we put him in." Wright took out his pen and marked the Blue Badger's location. "This is where he was dancing at the time of the crime." He held up the map so everyone could see. "Well…?"

"Well… what?" the judge asked.

_Wait… That spot…_ Miles jerked back with a loud gasp.

"That's right," Wright said. "So long as the Blue Badger is dancing here, it would be impossible… to place a handprint at this spot on the locker!"

"Whaaaaat!?" Marshall screamed, summing up the gallery's murmurs quite well.

The judge banged his gavel three times. "So that means…" he trailed off. "Uh… just exactly what does that mean!?"

"It means it can't be done!" Wright replied.

"What are you saying? Blood traces were undeniably found on that locker!"

"Don't look at me, I didn't put it there!"

"Mr. Wright!" Ema called. "Think it through scientifically!"

"Ema!"

"On that afternoon… Officer Meekins was the one who brought the Blue Badger to the evidence room, right? After he put it down, it would be impossible to leave a handprint on that locker."

"So that must mean this blood mark… was left there before the Blue Badger was brought in…?"

"Just one moment!" the judge barked. "I will not allow such farfetched balderdash in my courtroom!"

"It may sound farfetched, Your Honor… but it's the only possible explanation! On February 21st… in the Police Department's evidence room…" He pounded on his desk. "blood was spilled not once, but twice!"

"B-but how…!" Miles almost screamed, doubling over his desk.

"One time was captured on this tape, taken by the security camera. Officer Meekins cut his hand, from which a trivial amount of blood fell. The problem is… the 'other' time. Someone bled prior to the struggle shown on this tape." He banged on his desk. "It had to have been… Detective Goodman, when he was really murdered!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted, striking his desk. "That's ridiculous! I refute you!"

"Objection! The murder portrayed in the security tape has been proven to be a fake. However! That does not explain the blood mark found on the locker!"

"Objection! So then… assuming this 'murder' you purport really happened, when did it take place!? I demand you show evidence that proves it occurred!"

"To surmise," the judge said, "the defense claims that… prior to Officer Meekins being cut by Jake Marshall, who was disguised as Detective Goodman, another 'incident' took place in that evidence room."

"The blood mark on the locker proves this," Wright said.

"Very well. Then tell us… When did this 'first' incident occur? Proof must be presented."

_The ID Card Record, no doubt._

"Now then," the judge continued. "Will the defense please present its evidence? What shows when the 'first' crime took place?"

"If the crime took place inside the evidence room," Wright said, "then the perpetrator would had to have entered the room. In order to do so, an ID card is required."

_I knew it._

"An ID card…" the judge echoed. "Oh! The ID Card Record!"

"Officer Meekins brought the Blue Badger panel into the evidence room at…"

"Let's see here… 4:50 PM. If the crime took place before that time, then it would be… 4:40 PM… Ah! AAAAAAAHHH! M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-Miles Edgeworth! Just what have you done!?"

_Are you sure you were once a lawyer, Your Honor?_

"I never figured you had nerve, boy," Marshall sneered.

"Put off the act, witness," Miles said. "It doesn't take a lot of thought to figure out it couldn't have been me."

"Hmm… Nope, I ain't gettin' it…"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I'm afraid I don't understand either."

_For starters, I wouldn't frame someone I care so much about._

"It's clear from the luminol test that blood was there," Miles explained. "However, when the 'second' crime took place, both Officer Meekins and Officer Marshall failed to notice the blood."

"That means…" Wright started, "the blood from the first crime was wiped away… by the real murderer.

"I would have had just ten minutes to murder the victim, carry his body away, and clean up the blood… Unfortunately, that's physically impossible."

"That would mean…" the judge said, "the crime must have taken place before Mr. Edgeworth entered the evidence room."

"Let's look at the chart again," Wright said. "There's only one other card number remaining: '7777777'!"

"Talk about a lucky number…" Marshall commented.

"But wait…" the judge said. "That doesn't make sense! How could Detective Goodman have entered the evidence room?"

"Since there's no record of his card being used beforehand…" Wright stated, "he must have entered along with the real murderer." He bit his desk. "That's the only plausible explanation. He went in with '7777777'!"

The judge banged his gavel. "Mr. Edgeworth! Please look into this ASAP! Find out whose ID number is '77777777'!"

"That's one 'seven' too many, Your Honor," Miles said. "Unfortunately… I'm unable to look up the owner of that ID card. At least, at present."

"What!?" Wright barked.

"Explain yourself, son," Marshall demanded.

"The ID number '7777777' belongs to someone with a rank of Captain or higher…" Miles explained. "Someone who is a so-called 'executive officer.' We don't have the authority to inquire into such a person's identity."

"Objection!" Wright yelled, banging on his desk. "But that's ridiculous! Just how—"

"I'm not finished talking, Mr. Wright. There is one situation in which we can be granted such authority."

"If an official charge against an executive is accepted," the judge said.

"An 'official charge'…" Wright said.

"You're all alike, aren't you?" Marshall complained. "With your 'cover-ups' and your 'forgeries'… That's how the Prosecutor's Office operates!"

The gallery started up.

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "I take pride in my work, Officer Marshall. I would appreciate it if you would keep your slander to yourself."

"'Slander,' is it? Okay. Let me ask a question."

"Yes?"

"No, not to you. To her, the defendant sitting over there. Your own little 'executive.'"

"Objection! Don't be stupid. She's been charged with murder. Of course we've looked into her ID number… and it's not '7777777.'"

"Don't play me for a fool, pardner. That's not what I want to ask. All I want to know is one thing… about that incident."

"The SL-9 Incident?" the judge asked.

"Answer me this, Chief Prosecutor!" Marshall demanded. "In that trial two years ago… Did you really only use legitimate evidence!?"

_What!? Why are you pushing this!?_

Lana waited until it was quiet.

"Do you need the witness to repeat his question, Chief Prosecutor?" Miles asked.

"I heard him fine, Mr. Edgeworth," Lana replied.

"Two years ago… I was in charge of the prosecution for that trial. At the time, we…"

"Occasionally…" Lana interrupted, "we felt the powerlessness of the law. At least… I did."

_What!? Lana… You can't be serious…!_

"L-Lana…" Ema squeaked.

"I became a prosecutor in order to suppress crime with the law," Lana continued. "But before I realized it, we were the ones being suppressed by the law."

"Defendant!" the judge snapped. "Just what are you saying!?"

"I'll ask you again, Chief Prosecutor," Marshall said. "During that trial two years ago… did you really present all the evidence in court? Can you look me, an investigator in that crime, in the eye and say that you did?"

"Chief Prosecutor! You didn't…"

_Lana… Please tell me you haven't been lying to me…_

"I don't have to, Officer Marshall," Lana said to Marshall.

_No!_ "Why don't you answer him!?" Miles demanded.

"Drastic crimes require drastic measures… That's just the way it is. We did what we had to… in order for him to get the verdict he deserved." Lana was looking directly at Miles. He could see the sorrow in her eyes.

"But Lana!" Ema cried.

"Even if it involved 'forging' evidence."

_No… Lana… you… you…!!_

"See?" Marshall said, breaking the courtroom's silence. "That's what I'm talking about."

"No…" Miles almost cried. "NNNOOOOOOO!!"

Miles collapsed onto his desk as the gallery filled the courtroom with jeers. The judge tried in vain to silence the uproar.

"Order!" he roared, repeatedly banging his gavel. "Order! Order! ORDERRRRR!!"

_How could you, Lana? Mere days before it happened, we had every intent to spend our lives together. There were going to be no secrets between us, no lies… Is your blackmailer truly so horrible that you had to forsake our future together?_

_I needed you, Lana. Out of all the people I knew, I felt I could trust you no matter what happened. Up to this point, I always believed you would do what was right… no matter the cost… But you've been deceiving me from the start. Is this the real you? Someone who will do anything to save her own skin?_

Miles brought his head up from his desk. Everyone had left.

_All that's happened… because of the woman I loved… Why must life torment me so!?_

Miles ran out of the courtroom, too heartbroken to cry.


	25. Part I, Chapter 24: The Final Phases

**Chapter 24—The Final Phases**

February 24, 2017

Wright walked into the room, Ema by his side. Lana greeted them with her usual cold gaze.

"L-Lana…" Ema stuttered.

"Mr. Wright," Lana said. "It seems I keep causing you trouble."

"Falsifying evidence…" Wright said, amazed. "I didn't think you were the type."

"Criminals don't mind playing foul, why should we?"

"But Lana!" Ema cut in. "If you're wrong… an innocent person might be found guilty!"

"Believe me… I understand the risks." _If you knew the risk disobeying Gant involved, you'd realize my motive, Ema._

"Lana," Wright said. "Ema told me about you."

"Oh?"

"About how you were a detective two years ago, and how the SL-9 Incident was the reason for your transfer to the Prosecutor's Office."

"That's right."

"Could you fill me in on the details? Especially about that unusual change of jobs."

_The details? No… I can't tell you everything… but I'll tell you what I need to._ "I suppose you have a right to know, Mr. Wright. It's true. I was a member of the police force two years ago."

"She was amazing!" Ema chirped. "They still talk about all the cases she and Chief Gant cracked together!"

"Chief Gant?" Wright asked.

"Then he was the Vice-Head of Criminal Affairs," Lana explained, "but he still worked the crime scenes. Damon Gant… he was everything I aspired to be." _Until I learned his true intentions, that is…_

"They were the best team ever!" Ema exclaimed. "They solved crimes before the reports could even be filed!"

"But now you're Chief Prosecutor…" Wright said. "What happened?"

"I always planned on being a prosecutor," Lana replied. "The reason I became a detective was…"

"to gain experience investigating crime scenes," Ema finished, "so you could later use that experience in court."

"Gant's help in the SL-9 case was critical in its resolution. After that, he became Chief of Police, and arranged my transfer to the Prosecutor's Office."

"A lot of revelations were uncovered at the trial today," Wright said, "not the least of which was the fact that this case is largely connected to another one, two years ago."

"Evidence from that case was stolen…" _Probably by Gant…_ "I expected as much. I know how obsessive Officer Marshall can be."

"That trial…" Ema sobbed, "it really wasn't 'fair,' was it?"

_Ema… If only you knew why…_

"I believed in you, Lana!" Ema cried. "I believed that no matter what happened, you'd always stick to the truth!"

"It couldn't be helped, Ema," Lana replied. "At that trial two years ago… I sold my soul."

"Well," Wright cut in, "all drama aside, the fact of the matter is at 5:15, there was no murder at the Police Department."

"Tell me it's not true, Lana!" Ema begged. "What the witness… Ms. Starr said! About you stabbing Mr. Goodman with a knife!"

_That much was true… but not in the way Starr would have you believe._

"Lana!" Ema snapped. "I don't understand! Why won't you tell us?"

"Ema…" Lana finally said, averting her gaze. "This doesn't involve just me."

"Um…" Wright said, "going back to SL-9…"

"Two years ago I was second-in-command of the detectives investigating Darke," Lana said.

"'Second-in-command'? That means the Chief Detective was, no doubt, Damon Gant?"

"Yes. Detective Gant and I shared the same office, and the same investigations. We led a team of the best detectives on the force: Detective Goodman, whose case it was, Jake Marshall and Angel Starr. It was the first time Marshall worked with his brother. He was quite… 'gung ho.'" _Not unlike Gumshoe when he works with Miles._

"Without a doubt," Lana continued, "Joe Darke was the serial killer. We asked him to come in for questioning. We were desperate for evidence. That was when the last murder took place."

"Prosecutor Marshall was trying to save me from Darke…" Ema said.

"You see, the first person who happened upon the scene of the crime… was me."

Wright looked surprised.

"Detective Gant and Prosecutor Marshall were the ones questioning Dark that day," Lana continued. "The investigation was in its final stages, when Darke must have panicked. He waited until Gant and Marshall let their guards down, then fled the room. From there, he ran straight to…" she took a deep breath, "the office shared by Detective Gant and myself."

"That's where he found me," Ema squeaked.

"So you were the first person to run to the scene, Lana?" Wright asked.

"It appears so," Lana replied. "I was filing some papers while Gant and Marshall were questioning Darke. When I returned to my office, I saw three bodies on the floor and smelled blood."

"Three bodies? Prosecutor Marshall, the victim, Ema, who had passed out,"

"and the suspect, Joe Darke," Lana finished. "During the struggle, it seems Mr. Marshall struck a final blow before he died. Joe Darke had incurred a minor concussion, and lay unconscious."

"What did you do?"

"To be honest, I panicked. I picked up Ema, carried her out of the room and just held her. After that, I placed Darke under immediate arrest."

"Let me get this straight. You were all involved in the SL-9 Incident?"

"That's right. Quite a coincidence, hmm?"

"I don't buy it."

"W-what are you saying?" Ema asked.

"There's no way everyone involved in this trial was also involved in that incident just by 'chance.'"

"But that case was solved two years ago!"

"At least one person went to extremes because they didn't believe it was truly solved."

"Officer Marshall…" Lana commented. "Yes, his actions came as a surprise to me as well. Ever since his brother died, he's changed completely."

"I guess he wasn't convinced with the ruling against Joe Darke," Ema said.

_Well, that makes sense, considering that we lied._ "Life doesn't end with the closing of a case. Everyone has to live the rest of their lives with their memories." _Which is why I couldn't bear to let Miles know…_

"That 'case' just might not be over yet," Wright said.

_No, please…_

"Ema was assaulted by Darke at the Police Department, right?"

"Yes, in the office that Damon Gant and I shared," Lana answered. "The office that Mr. Gant now occupies by himself: the Chief's office."

Wright nodded and got up, walking out the door. Ema hesitated, looking to Lana sadly before following.

_The final day is tomorrow… It'll be over then. Ema will finally be safe…_

Lana's right hand shook. Her face contorted into a glare.

_Gant… May your death be slow and painful, and may you be conscious right up to the end. May it last for as long as you have caused others pain. For what you've done to me, to Miles, to Ema, and everyone else who has suffered at your infernal hands, you deserve sympathy from no one._

_How often have my thoughts wandered down this path? I feel as though I have hated you my entire life. I have you to thank for very much, though all you helped me achieve, and every pleasure I have felt because of you, has been taken from me now. Thanks to my post as a detective, Ema and I could finally move to a more comfortable home. We even were able to get another cat. And then there was Miles. Had you not taken me under your wing, I probably would never have met him._

_But after SL-9, you robbed me of it all. Nothing in life pleased me as much as it used to. Every second, the guilt of what I did, and the torture of being powerless to fight you, engraved a frown into my face and encased my heart in ice._

_It's not over yet, though. Even though I will surely fall, you will fall with me. You've robbed me of almost everything I held dear; it's only fair that I do the same to you. When that case is finally closed for good, I'll tell all; you'll be exposed. Ema will be perfectly safe with the closing of the case, but there are still forgeries you have committed that are subject to punishment. At last, the world will know the beast that is Damon Gant._

* * *

Miles didn't come that day. He was no doubt still furious about the forgeries. It made sense, though; he trusted Lana more than anyone else, and then she told him she had been lying to him.

Lana heard the door open. It was Wright again.

"Where's Ema?" Lana asked.

"Chief Gant wanted to talk to her," Wright replied. "He needed to ask her some questions."

"I see. So the Chief asked Ema to come in for questioning…"

"It's no use thinking about it. Tomorrow's the final day in court. I'm committed to doing everything I can to defend you, which is why I'm here."

"But I've already told you all I can…"

"What you've told me over these past couple of days… is absolutely nothing. Not a single, useful thing."

_So you're really going to try to take him down? I'm sorry, Wright, but I've made up my mind. I'll defeat Gant on my own._

"Really?" Lana asked. I believe I did mention something quite important. Something I told you right at the beginning. I said that I was the one who stabbed Detective Goodman."

"You know, I think I've finally figured it out…" Wright said. "Who it is you're hiding behind those words."

_You're making a mistake, Wright._

"Mia did a good job mentoring you," Lana said. "I'm rather jealous… It seems Edgeworth was right."

"Edgeworth…?"

"Once you're convinced you know something, no one can persuade you otherwise. 'Thick headed' is the term he used, I believe."

Wright looked as though he was mulling something over.

_This case is too much for you. Get out before you send Ema to prison with me._

"I have to admit I was more than a little perplexed at first," Wright finally said. "You insisted you 'did it,' yet there was no incriminating evidence. That's when it hit me. It's not that you're unwilling to tell the truth, it's that you're incapable of doing so, because of a certain individual."

"What an intriguing notion," Lana said, averting her gaze from Wright. "A certain, 'individual,' you say? So you think I'm… protecting this person?"

"Protecting? No. I think 'afraid of' is more like it."

_He's figured it out… I can't let him know that, though._

"If I'm not mistaken," Wright continued, "the person in question may have persuaded you to silence."

_I have to keep quiet about this… Ema's well-being—possibly her life—is at stake._

"For argument's sake, Mr. Wright," Lana requested, "whom may I ask is this person you're speaking of? The one I am supposedly so 'frightened' of? What is this person's name?"

"Damon Gant," Wright answered. Lana felt her muffler getting sweaty. "Well, Ms. Skye?"

Lana turned around, facing away from Wright to conceal the broken face she felt trying to escape. "Mr. Wright. You are addressing the Chief Prosecutor. Do not forget your place. My apologies." She turned back to face him, her usual face back. "Could you please tell me a bit more about the circumstances?"

Wright motioned for Lana to continue.

"We were partners until two years ago," Lana said. "I respected him as a detective."

"Assuming he is respectable, then tell me something…" Wright said. "Why would he try to hide his crimes?"

"His 'crimes'…?"

"Both you and Edgeworth will be brought before a board of inquiry for what you did. Specifically, hiding and forging evidence."

"Of course, these are serious offenses…"

"Why is it, thought, that Chief Gant's name was never mentioned?"

"Chief Gant…?"

"Edgeworth didn't know the truth behind the forgery. The only party who could have possibly investigated that evidence was…"

"Me," Lana said. "I had access because I was second in command of that investigation."

"Yes you, but also one other: Damon Gant."

_Yes, you're definitely Mia's student. She was too persistent for her own good, too._

"If you intend to accuse Chief Gant," Lana said, "you'll need more than just words." She glared at Wright. "Show me proof that Chief Gant falsified evidence in that case!"

"Take that!" Wright shouted, taking a jar from his bag and pointing to a section with red lines—probably blood—on it. "This jar piece, and this strip of cloth." He took out a piece of cloth with a handprint on it. "Do you know what these are? They're pieces of evidence from the SL-9 Incident!"

"I…"

"The person concealing evidence was none other than Chief Gant himself. Now tell me! Why are you taking all the blame for him!?"

_He knows… I… suppose there's no point in playing dumb now…_

"Touché, Mr. Wright," Lana said with a sigh. "It's as you surmised. I cannot disobey the Chief's orders… even if it means being found guilty for murder."

"Why not?"

"Come now, Mr. Wright. You can't possibly expect me to be able to tell you that. Three days ago… I had no choice but to cooperate. Or perhaps I should say, 'follow orders.' Yes, that's more accurate than 'cooperate.' Although I can't tell you the details, I can say that I was given an order that day. 'I need you to dispose of Bruce Goodman's body. You'll find it in the trunk of Miles Edgeworth's car.'"

_If I did nothing, Miles would have been accused instead._

"Just as I suspected," Wright said. "Despite what everyone believes… you were not the one who murdered Detective Goodman!"

"Correct," Lana admitted. "I was trying to take the body out of Edgeworth's car. The trunk was broken. I discovered that murder weapon while inspecting the body."

"The murder weapon… You mean, Edgeworth's knife?"

"No. When I found the body, this was the knife stuck in it," Lana said, pointing to Darke's switchblade in Wright's bag. "I couldn't just leave that knife in him, so I took it out and stabbed him with another knife."

"That would be Edgeworth's knife?"

"That's right. Even though he was already dead, my hands were shaking at the thought of stabbing him. That's why I ended up cutting my hand."

"And that is the reason for the bandage on your right hand?"

"Yes. It seems I got blood on the victim's shoes as well. And then… she saw me as I plunged the knife in."

"Why did you need to hide Darke's knife so badly?"

"It took a lot of work to finally close the Darke case two years ago. It was over with. I didn't ever want it to be opened again. My intent was to prevent that by whatever means possible." Lana turned away again, feeling tears forming in her eyes.

"So… you hid Darke's knife?"

"The weapon used to stab the detective was evidence in the Joe Darke case… If word got out, which it would, the reporters would have a field day with that."

"So you wrapped the knife in your scarf, and hid it," Wright said. "In Edgeworth's exhaust pipe…"

"Right. Then I called my sister," Lana said, turning back around, "to tell her what happened, and to ask her to hide the knife that was inside my muffler."

"You asked Ema?"

"I didn't want anyone on the force to know about this. Speaking of phone calls, I had a bad feeling about one of them that day."

"A bad feeling?"

"The truth is, after I received those orders from Chief Gant, the first thing I did was make a phone call. A phone call to Patrolman Jake Marshall."

"To Marshall? Why on earth would you call him?"

"The lead investigator for the SL-9 Incident had been murdered. I wanted that fact to be kept hidden, and I needed help. He was the only other person I could trust." _Miles would have revealed everything. _"Or at least, I thought I could trust him at the time. However, it seems that after I spoke to him he went off on an escapade of his own…"

"Oh! You mean…"

"Not wanting the case to die, he decided to take things into his own hands. He had already stolen the ID card… but it seems he still hadn't made up his mind to break into the evidence room. After my phone call, any remaining doubts he had must have disappeared."

"So your phone call caused the incident in the evidence room!?"

Lana turned around again to face away from Wright. "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you," she said.

"But Lana…"

"You've earned my respect, Mr. Wright. Both as a defense attorney and an investigator." She turned around and glared right into his eyes. "Now please… Don't pursue this any further in court tomorrow!"

Wright left without a word.

_Why am I even trying to make him leave this alone… If he learned from Mia, he'll pursue this to the end._ Lana sighed, closing her eyes. _Think. That picture… can you save Ema with it? You've looked at it enough. That part of Marshall's vest… That piece of cloth must be from it. Wait… What if Gant cut that out? That would… No… Gant wouldn't keep that strip of cloth if it incriminated him._

_Still… Perhaps I can still take Gant down with me with that picture. After all, if Gant had the cloth, that means he concealed evidence. Okay._

When Lana opened her eyes, she saw Gumshoe standing in front of her.

"What are you doing here, Gumshoe?" Lana asked.

"I… just wanted to see if I could help."

Lana closed her eyes again, and let out a calming sigh. "Actually, you're just in time. I need you to give Mr. Wright something. In my condo, there's a book that I want him to have. It's titled _Evidence Law_. If there's a break in tomorrow's trial, give it to him."

Gumshoe sighed, a little annoyed. "That's it?"

"That's it, Detective."

Gumshoe winced at the word "Detective."

"Okay, Ms. Skye," he said, clearly disappointed in not being able to do something he thought was more important.

"Also, after the trial is over, try to convince Mr. Edgeworth to visit me. For better or worse, I need to talk to him."

"Okay." He seemed to think for a moment. "Um… What do you think is gonna happen between you two?"

"I'd rather not think about that at the moment. I'll find out soon enough on my own. Now, you have your orders. Please leave me."

Gumshoe, saddened by what was all but guaranteed, got up and left.

_I guess this is it. After two years, I'll finally be free… but at a more horrible cost than I could have imagined. Wright, you had better get Ema out safe. I don't care what that scene looked like. She'd never kill someone. It's just not in her nature._

_And Miles… I'm sorry it had to end this way. Don't hold all this against me. I was a victim of fate, just like you. Perhaps you'll understand when the time comes._


	26. Part I, Finale: The Truth

**Finale—The Truth**

February 25, 2017

At last, things were beginning to come together. The secret that had torn Lana from Miles's arms had been exposed. In addition, Chief Gant himself had contacted Miles and requested that SL-9 be ignored and the only case under scrutiny be Goodman's death. With that call, Gant had made it clear that he also had some secrets.

Miles walked into the Defendant Lobby and saw Wright there. Lana was gone.

_Gant must be talking to her. He's got something to hide, and this case has given him reason to get paranoid._

"Something's been happening behind the scenes…" Miles sighed. Wright turned and saw Miles.

"Edgeworth!" Wright yelped.

"Knowing you, you've already figured it out… Who the owner of the '7777777' ID number is."

"Well… I have a pretty strong hunch."

_Gant, I presume. I figured as much. This is a problem, though._

"You know," Miles grumbled, "the only reason this trial didn't reach a verdict yesterday is because there was still room for doubt on this ID record. If that number does belong to whom you suspect, then no doubt will remain." _Unless you have some idea how to throw suspicion onto him_. "After all, he hasn't been officially charged with anything."

"True…" Wright admitted. "Not yet."

"In any event, once all doubt has been removed from that list, I can call for a ruling on the defendant. Five minutes after the trial starts…" _I can hardly bear to say it… _"Lana will be found guilty."

"But she didn't do it!"

"I figured you'd say as much. That's why I came here… to hear what you have to say."

Wright looked surprised.

_This isn't just about Lana anymore, Wright. Someone's out to get me, and I intend to strike them down._

"Lana's hiding something," Wright said, "and the only we'll ever know the truth is to draw it out of her."

"The 'truth'?" _She's already admitted to forging evidence. What more could she be hiding?_

"Everything goes back to the SL-9 Incident," Wright said.

"Don't be stupid!" Miles snapped. "Today's the last day of the trial. We don't have time to reminisce about the past!"

"That depends on you."

_What do you mean by that, Wright?_

"If she's found guilty," Wright continued, "you'll lose your only chance to find out what really happened."

_Amazing… Did you somehow learn I dated that beautiful client of yours?_

"I'll think about it," Miles said. "See you in court, Wright."

Miles walked out of the lobby.

_What really happened… Forging that evidence… Why did she do it? Thinking about it, it's not in her to do something so horrible without what she considers a very good reason. Just catching Darke… Yes… There _is _more to that disaster…_

* * *

Miles walked into the courtroom. Moments later, Wright joined him on the other side. The judge banged his gavel.

"Court is now in session for the trial of Ms. Lana Skye," he said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said.

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," Miles stated.

"Normally this is when the prosecution puts forth its opening statement," the judge said, "but before that, the police chief has a proposal to make."

_A proposal? Hm… This definitely makes Wright seem right._

Gant took the stand. "Mornin' folks," he said, clapping his hands jollily. "How's everyone doing? Hey, Udgey. Been back to the pool yet?"

"No, I've been drowning enough as it is in my work," the judge replied.

"Ho! That's a good one! Don't think I can top that!"

"If you don't mind me asking, Chief," Miles cut in, "exactly what is this 'proposal' of yours?"

Gant waited a moment until the court was completely focused on him. "Lana… that is to say, the defendant, has asked me if she could speak directly to the court."

_What about?_

"Having heard what she intends to say," Gant continued, "I feel she should be granted her request. In the end, it should save everyone a lot of time and trouble."

Gant stepped down from the stand and Lana took his place.

"What's this all about, defendant?" Miles asked.

"I'd just like to make one simple request, and I'll be finished," Lana said.

"Well then?" the judge asked. "What's your request?"

"Your Honor, I'd like you to put an immediate end to this trial."

"Huh!?" Wright gasped.

"I confess to all charges against me. On February 21 of this year, I murdered Detective Bruce Goodman in the underground parking lot of the Prosecutor's Office."

"No, Lana!" Wright screamed.

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"Objection!" Wright yelled. "You can't! Your Honor. The defendant's claim does not change the defense's plea!"

"In that case, Mr. Wright," Lana said, "I no longer require your services."

"But Lana!"

"Your Honor. I hereby forfeit my right to an attorney."

_What!? Lana, this is madness!_

"The prosecution may lack direct evidence against me," Lana continued, "but it has sufficiently proven its case through testimony and circumstantial evidence. I would like you to render your verdict now, if you please."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Well, the defendant certainly has the right to self-representation… Her request is legally valid, although this is an unprecedented situation."

The judge banged his gavel.

_So it's over? Just like that? Are you really this desperate, Lana?_

"Indeed," the judge continued, "it appears there's no further need to continue this trial… even if Mr. Wright may feel otherwise."

_What to do… If she really wants this verdict…_

"It appears the time for the verdict has arrived."

_No… I must know the truth!_

"This court finds the defendant…"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "One moment, Your Honor."

"M-Mr. Edgeworth!?" the judge stammered.

"The prosecution has not yet proven the defendant guilty beyond reasonable doubt." Miles struck his desk. "Any ruling at this stage would certainly be premature."

"Come now, Worthy," Gant said. "I understand this is a difficult time for you, but why don't you just be a good little boy and keep your mouth shut, hmm?"

_I should have known, Gant. You've got your own dirty secret behind this case, don't you? Well, that changes a great deal. _Miles smiled evilly.

"Hmph," Miles scoffed. "I don't think I care for your tone… Chief Gant."

"What?"

"Creating another fabrication to cover up your past mistakes… Sorry, but I'm no longer the naïve little 'boy' you would have me be." _After two years, I've finally found out who it is that's responsible for all the rumors flying around about me, all the oddities that I decided against questioning… and the end of my engagement to Lana… Thanks to Wright, I finally have in my sights the monster I've been searching for. I've thrown my glove before your feet, Damon Gant. Choose your weapon; the place is here and the time is now._

"With this sudden confession from the defendant," Miles continued, "it's obvious to me some kind of deal was struck behind the scenes."

"Some kind of 'deal,' hm?" Gant teased. "Not everyone operates as you do… Worthy."

"Hmph. I thought so. Your Honor. The prosecution would like to change its first witness."

"Oh?" the judge asked. "To whom…?"

_To someone who can shed light on SL-9… Someone who saw the crime scene before the forgery…_

"As its first witness, the prosecution would like to call… Ms. Ema Skye! I request the court hears her testimony!"

"Hold it!" Lana screamed. "Mr. Edgeworth! I am exercising my right to self representation. I don't think we need to contin—"

"I don't care what you think, Ms. Skye."

Lana glared at Miles.

_I don't know what to think of you anymore, Lana. But I know what I want, and that's the truth. Gant has you under his control. But he doesn't control me. I don't care who I have to strike down to defeat him—even if I have to strike you down to get there._

"The exposure of truth sometimes results in tragedy…" Miles said. "However! No matter how tragic the truth may be, it would be an even greater tragedy… to avert one's eyes from it."

_Even if you despise me for this, I'm going forward. If we are destined to be apart, then I have a right to know why._

The judge banged his gavel.

"Very well," he said. "The court shall grant the prosecution's request. That's okay with you, right Chief Gant?"

"Worthy…" Gant said. His smile suddenly became serious. "You'll live to regret this. Mark my words."

_I imagine I will… But I'd regret letting you go free even more._

"Ms. Ema Skye," Miles said. "Please take the stand."

Ema walked to the witness stand, clearly saddened by Lana's statement.

"Now then, witness," Miles continued. "Please state your name and occupation."

"Um…" Ema stuttered. "M-my name is Ema. Ema Skye. My occupation? I'm Lana's little sister, and I want to be a scientific investigator!"

"Two years ago… you encountered the serial killer Joe Darke, of the 'Joe Darke Killings.' Is this correct?"

"Yes. I'm trying my hardest to forget about that, though…"

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to recall those events one more time."

"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge called. "Please remember this trial concerns the murder of Detective Goodman. Is an incident that was resolved two years ago really all that relevant?"

"Yes. It most certainly is." _It's become clear to me that the secret of SL-9 has a critical role in this case._

"W-well okay then!" the judge said.

"Now… please testify about what happened to you two years ago."

_At last, I'll know what Gant has been using to threaten you. Even if we may not be together, Lana, you may still have your sister._

"I was waiting in my sister's office that day," Ema squeaked. "A man came running in, and took me hostage. Neil Marshall rescued me, but I'll never forget what I saw that instant! The man raised his knife, and… and stabbed Mr. Marshall in the chest…!"

"It's a good thing you weren't harmed," the judge said.

"I passed out… I don't remember much."

"That's understandable. However… please tell me, Mr. Edgeworth. What does this testimony have to do with Detective Goodman's murder?"

_I know there's a connection, but how to phrase it…_

"That will soon become apparent, Your Honor," Miles said, confident. Wright, on the other hand, was already in his usual cold sweat.

"Very well! The defense may begin its cross-examination."

"What was the prosecutor doing there?" Wright asked, referring to Marshall.

"That day," Miles answered, "there were two people present during Darke's questioning: Detective Damon Gant, and Prosecutor Neil Marshall. Neil Marshall had just received the King of Prosecutors award. Young and dedicated, he went straight to the questioning room after the ceremony."

"I assume that would also be why he was the first to run after Darke," the judge said.

"When Darke grabbed me," Ema sobbed, "I… I thought I was as good as dead."

"And that's when Prosecutor Marshall came running in?"

"I… I don't clearly remember what happened then. But… but I'll never forget what I saw that instant!"

"Can you tell us about that?"

"Mr. Marshall jumped on Darke. Just then… the lights went out."

"The lights?" the judge asked.

"It was just about this time of year… There was a terrible storm going on, and lightning struck nearby."

_Right, I remember that. Thanks to that brief blackout, I lost a report I was in the middle of typing._

"So the electricity went out?" Wright asked.

"Wait a minute…" the judge said. "If it was pitch dark in that room… you shouldn't have been able to see anything, right?"

"Right, but just then lightning flashed again outside," Ema replied. "That sudden flash left an unforgettable image of the scene in my mind…"

"I see…"

"I told the detective about what I saw then."

"The detective?" Wright asked.

"Yes. Detective Goodman. He was in charge of the case."

"So you spoke with Detective Goodman about this… two years ago."

"Yes. That's what's so scary about this trial."

"And you told Detective Goodman what you saw?" Miles asked.

"Yes, but… at the time, the words just wouldn't come out. That's why I drew a picture."

_A picture?_

"Well, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Have you heard enough?"

"This picture the witness drew…" Wright said. "I believe it has a very important meaning."

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "But the list of evidence I was given two years ago didn't contain a picture…"

The judge banged his gavel. "Witness," he said. "Would you mind if we added this statement to your testimony?"

"Y-yes, Your Honor," Ema said. "I drew a picture of that scene once… but it seems to have been lost."

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "Mr. Edgeworth. This little girl put all her heart into drawing that picture…" He struck his desk, then pointed accusingly at Miles. "and yet you still insist on denying its existence?"

"Huh!?" Miles yelped. He hit his desk. "Hey, I'm not the bad guy! All I'm saying is that as the prosecutor for that case, I wasn't handed such a picture!"

"That may well be… but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist." Wright held up a piece of paper. "Behold!" The paper was handed to the judge.

"This is… the evidence list for the SL-9 Incident?" he asked.

"Please turn it over, Your Honor," Wright said with a nod.

"Turn it over…? Turn… it… AAAAAAAHHHH! What's this!?"

_What's what!? What in the world is going on!?_

The judge held up the evidence list. On its back was a picture of some sort.

_What the hell…?_

"Yes, what is that?" Miles demanded.

"Hey!" Ema chirped. "That's it! That's the picture I drew!"

The gallery started murmuring, but quieted down before the judge had to use his gavel.

"Indeed…" the judge said. "Two men appear to be wrestling here."

"Objection!" Miles barked. "What's the meaning of this!? What are you doing with that list!?"

"Me…?" Wright squeaked, sweating.

"Only the prosecutor in charge should have access to that list!" Miles yelled, holding up his copy.

"Huh…?" the judge mumbled. "These lists… They're… They're different from each other."

"What?"

"It would appear, Mr. Edgeworth, that the evidence list you were handed two years ago… was incomplete. These two lists… fit together to form one. You can see the marks here, where they were torn apart from each other."

_Torn apart!?_

"So you see, Mr. Edgeworth," Wright said. "It's quite obvious what happened. Two years ago… only half of the evidence in that case ever reached you."

"What…" Miles said through gritted teeth. "WWWHHAAAAAAATTTTT!?"

The gallery began yammering. The judge banged his gavel to silence them.

"Order! Order!" the judge roared. "Who'd have thought the picture would have been drawn on the back of the list…"

"That was handed to Detective Goodman in the questioning room?" Ema finished.

_Is everyone in the Department out to get me!?_

Wright pounded on his desk. "Your Honor!" he called.

"Are you all right, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Your eyes are bulging from your head…"

"If the evidence list was torn in half… then there might be more of the drawing on the back of Mr. Edgeworth's list!"

_He's right!_

"Yes, that's quite conceivable," the judge agreed. "Mr. Edgeworth?"

"It's possible," Miles said, looking at his half of the list. "Let's see…" He turned it over. On the other side, however, was not part of Ema's picture, but the rotten head of the Blue Badger. Miles doubled over onto his desk, his teeth grinding against each other. "MM!" he growled. "MMMMMMMMMMMMM!!" _Why the hell did _THAT_ thing have to show up again!?_

"Is something wrong?"

_Why couldn't Wynn have designed something more authoritative!?_

"Sorry, Your Honor," Miles said, regaining his composure. "There is something drawn on the back of my list. This is that… thing!" Miles indicated the jester of a mascot drawn on his half of the evidence list.

The judge appeared shocked. "That's that… that thing! That thing that was dancing in the evidence room!"

_I'd hardly call it a dance._ "Apparently the Head of Criminal Affairs used this for his blueprint." _Before I resign, I'll have to make sure someone looks over his salary…_

The judge banged his gavel. "Very well," he said. "Witness. Will you please testify about this picture you drew two years ago?"

"Huh?" Ema asked after a pause. She must not have been listening. "Oh, y-yes sir, Your Honor! This is the picture I drew two years ago. The flash of lightning was so bright all I could see were shadows. After that I must have fainted. This picture shows exactly what I saw that instant!"

"To think a flash of lightning could burn such an image in your mind… Well, I don't see any contradictions here. This clearly shows Joe Darke about to murder Prosecutor Neil Marshall."

_You can't really tell that. After all, Ema only drew a pair of silhouettes._

"The defense may now begin its cross-examination," the judge said.

"Did you draw this picture right after the incident?" Wright asked.

"Um… I think I drew it two or three days later," Ema replied. "At first I was in such a state of shock that I couldn't do anything…"

"During that time the detective team was reorganized," Miles said. "Detective Goodman was placed in charge under the direction of Damon Gant and Lana Skye."

"Excuse me, witness," the judge cut in, "but can you please tell us why this picture is painted all black?"

"The flash of lightning was so bright all I could see were shadows," Ema explained.

"So at the time you didn't even know it was Mr. Marshall who had come to your rescue?" Wright asked.

"No… I couldn't see him clearly. The lightning was so bright… and I was knocked to the floor."

"You were knocked to the floor?"

"Darke had a tight grip on me, but when Mr. Marshall jumped on him, I was knocked away. I turned around, and that's when the lightning flashed."

"What happened after the lightning flashed?" Miles asked.

"After that I must have fainted," Ema answered.

"You mean, you didn't see the actual murder take place?" Wright asked.

"No. I-I'm sorry…"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "The flash of lightning only drove off the darkness for a split second. Not only that, but the trauma of the situation understandably caused the witness to faint." Miles hit his desk. "Do you really need to torture this girl any further!?"

"What!?" Wright yelped. "Hey, I'm not the bad guy here!"

"Anyway," Ema said, "this picture… this picture shows exactly what I saw that instant!"

"Objection!" Wright hit his desk. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this picture the witness drew… contains a blatant contradiction!" Wright was holding Marshall's autopsy report in one hand.

"What?" Ema yelped. "B-but, I still remember it just like it was yesterday!"

The judge banged his gavel. "Mr. Wright," he said. "Perhaps it would be faster if you simply pointed out this contradiction for us. What part of this picture… contradicts the autopsy report?"

"The contradiction of course lies here!" Wright said, indicating the knife shown in the picture. "Take a look at the knife the man is holding. If you look closely, you can see its tip is broken!"

"In fact, you don't even have to look closely to see that."

"But Mr. Wright, look at the evidence!" Ema said, flipping through her notebook. "See the murder weapon? Its tip is broken too!"

"If I recall… the tip of the knife was found broken off in the victim's body."

"It was the conclusive piece of evidence that proved Joe Darke was the murderer!"

Wright shook his head. "I'm afraid it's not so simple, Ema," he said.

"Objection!" Miles shouted, striking his desk. "Huh? Where could you possibly see a problem!?"

"It's obvious, really. The victim 'suffered a single stab wound to the back.'" He pounded on his desk. "If the victim was only stabbed once, then the murder weapon should not yet be broken!"

"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!" the judge screamed. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "Perhaps the knife was broken beforehand!"

"Objection!" Wright shouted back. "Sorry, but I'm afraid that's not possible. The tip of the knife was found inside the victim's body." He slammed his desk. "If it was broken beforehand, it couldn't possibly wind up there!"

The judge banged his gavel. "That's right!" he agreed. "But what does this mean?"

"Objection!" Miles barked. "The tip of the knife was undeniably discovered within the victim's body! The only possible explanation is the witness's memory is mistaken!"

"Objection!" Wright countered. "That's why I asked her so many times if she was sure she remembered correctly. I believe you were annoyed at the time. But she was sure she remembered correctly!"

"But… there's no other way to explain this inconsistency!"

"Objection! Not so fast, Mr. Edgeworth. There is another explanation. Have you forgotten already? About a little something called… 'falsified evidence'?"

"You're treading on thin ice, Wright…"

"All I'm saying, is that this broken knife might be the piece of evidence that was forged! You can't deny the possibility!"

"No… Aaaaagh!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Order! Order! Order!" the judge bellowed. "Are you saying the investigation really was corrupted?"

"Your Honor…" Wright said. "Please allow me to once again go over the events that took place the day of the murder. The Police Department and the Prosecutor's Office were holding a ceremony that day. After receiving the King of Prosecutors award at the ceremony, Neil Marshall questioned Joe Darke along with Damon Gant. During his questioning, Joe Darke fled the room. Prosecutor Marshall chased after him… and was killed by Darke. It is my belief that somewhere in this story… there is a lie."

"Hmm…"

"I… I'm not lying…" Ema sobbed. "The man really was holding up a broken knife!"

_Where does that leave us, then?_

"If that's true…" Miles started, "then there's no other way around it." He pointed to Darke's knife. "This could not have been the actual murder weapon. There must have been another broken knife!"

"What are the chances of there being two broken knives?" the judge asked.

"If the witness is this adamant about the accuracy of what she saw…" Wright said, "it can't just be explained away by a simple observational error."

"Mr. Wright…" Ema said.

Wright banged on his desk. "In that instant… Ema really did see a broken knife!"

The judge banged his gavel. "I assume then," he said, "that you have some information about this 'other' broken knife? If so, please feel free to enlighten us."

"Take a look at this. Here's the real murder weapon!" He held up a picture of the photograph hanging on the wall in Lana's old office. "The answer lies in the past… Two years in the past. Right here inside this picture!"

"This is a picture of the awards ceremony," Miles said. He then noticed it: the broken knife on Marshall's trophy. "A-AAAAHH!"

"What is it, Mr. Edgeworth!?" the judge asked.

"It's the… the broken murder weapon!" _She really did lie to me…_

"Notice the award Prosecutor Marshall is holding," Wright said.

"That's… a broken knife!" Ema exclaimed.

Wright struck his desk. "As we earlier concluded, the knife in the picture was not Joe Darke's knife. That being the case… the knife the witness saw, was in all likelihood this award!"

The gallery started up again. The judge did what he did best.

"Order! Order! Order!" he roared.

"Neil Marshall was awarded King of Prosecutors that day," Wright continued. "As an award, he was given this broken shield and a broken knife. When he chased after Joe Darke, he pulled out this knife. Being a prosecutor, he did not carry a pistol. This broken knife was the only weapon he had in this dangerous situation."

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "But that… That can't be!"

"Oh? And why not, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Because if the King of Prosecutors award knife was the murder weapon… then the murderer and the victim would be reversed!"

"What do you mean?"

Miles hit his desk. "I mean… This man raising a knife… would have been Prosecutor Neil Marshall!"

"Oh…" Wright mumbled. He then jerked back. "OOOOOOOHHHH!!"

The gallery started talking until the judge banged his gavel.

"But the prosecutor was the one who actually died!" the judge said.

"That's true…" Wright admitted.

Miles shook his head, amused. "It seems Mr. Wright has been a bit too eager to jump to conclusions…" he said.

"Hold it!" Ema screamed. "Wait! I… I remember now… I remember everything!"

"Witness…?" the judge asked.

"Mr. Edgeworth!"

"What is it?" Miles asked.

"Could you show me your evidence list again, please?"

"His list?" the judge confirmed. "The one with that… picture scribbled on the back?"

Miles held up the picture.

"I knew it…" Ema said. "This picture… I'm the one who drew it."

"What!?" Miles demanded.

"You drew that?" Wright squeaked.

"That's right," Ema stated. "The list wasn't torn in half at the time I drew this picture. All this time I've been trying so hard to forget… I must have locked this part away deep inside me…"

The judge banged his gavel. "Perhaps it would be best…" he said, "if we added this to the witness's testimony. Would you please tell us what you've recalled, Ms. Skye?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Ema answered. "When I saw that man raise his knife… I panicked, and rushed toward both of them. I think I… I knocked away the man with the knife. Just then there was another flash of lightning, and that's when I saw… the Blue Badger! He wasn't in the room, but I'm sure I saw his shadow!"

"This is certainly most unusual…" the judge commented.

"Objection!" Miles barked. "Try impossible! The Head Detective of Criminal Affairs didn't even design him until this year!"

"Yes, well. The defense may now begin its cross-examination."

"Hold it!" Lana screamed, having run up to the witness stand. "Stop!" she yelled, striking it with her left hand. "Please! Don't pursue this any further!"

"Lana!" Wright cried.

"What's the meaning of this!?" the judge growled. "Please remain seated in the defendant's chair!"

"But you can't do this! I've already confessed to the crime! Why can't you just leave it at that!?"

"Chief Prosecutor Skye," Miles called calmly. "We've already come this far. It's too late to turn back."

The judge banged his gavel. "Silence!" he shouted. "The defense will now begin its cross-examination. Bailiff. Please detain the defendant."

The bailiff took Lana back to the defendant's chair and stood next to her lest she try to interfere with the trial again.

_We're getting close to the truth, Lana. I don't care what you do. Even what remains of my love for you will not stop me from pursuing this to the end._

"When you say, 'that man,'" Wright said, "I assume you refer to Joe Darke?"

"Yes…" Ema answered, "at least, I think it was him."

"You… 'think'?"

"All I could really see were shadows."

"The power outage that immediately preceded the incident," Miles explained, "is also documented in the Prosecutor's Office reports."

"So then you…" the judge started.

"I panicked," Ema finished, "and rushed toward both of them."

"Why would you do something so dangerous!?" Wright asked.

"What else could I have done!? He was about to stab Mr. Marshall!"

"But as we've just theorized," Miles stated, "Mr. Marshall was the one holding the knife."

"Well, I didn't know that at the time! When that Darke guy knocked me down, all I could think was, 'I've got to help Mr. Marshall!' I think I… I knocked away the man with the knife."

"What do you mean, you 'think'?" Wright asked.

"It… it all happened so fast… And I was in shock! I don't remember everything clearly. What I did… it's all kind of a blur…"

"In a matter of seconds Ms. Skye was almost killed," Miles said, "then she witnessed a murder about to take place. A little disorientation is only natural."

"I saw the man about to stab the other person, who I thought was Mr. Marshall. I knew I had to stop the man with the knife."

"What you did was very brave, young girl," the judge commented. "So then, what happened next?"

"Just then there was another flash of lightning, and that's when I saw… the Blue Badger! He wasn't in the room, but I'm sure I saw his shadow!"

"His shadow?" Wright asked. "So you mean, you didn't actually see his face, with its winning smile and all?"

_And losing design?_

"That's right…" Ema said, "but I still remember it. He had three creepy horns…"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "This is pointless! That thing couldn't have possibly existed two years ago… The witness must be mistaken!"

"Objection!" Wright barked. "That may well be…" He struck his desk. "but what's important is what caused her to think she saw what she did."

"Oh? And I suppose you have an explanation?" He struck his desk. "If so, then by all means… please tell us what this 'shadow' really was!"

Wright pounded on his desk. "Ladies and gentlemen… It is the defense's belief that on that fateful day two years ago… there indeed was something that looked similar to the Blue Badger… Something that is now sitting in this very room!"

"Mr. Wright…!" Ema chirped, excited.

The judge banged his gavel. "In this room?" he asked. "Very well, Mr. Wright. What is it that the witness saw in that instant? Please show us this mysterious 'Blue Badger' look-alike!"

Wright hit his desk. "The mysterious 'Blue Badger' was in fact… this!" He took an old pot out of his bag.

"But that's… Er, what exactly is that?"

"I believe it's some sort of jar."

"But Mr. Wright!" Ema complained. "That doesn't look anything like the Blue Badger!"

"Indeed it doesn't. As it stands now, it's just a plain jar. However… What if we were to change our viewpoint?"

"Our viewpoint…?" the judge asked.

Wright picked up the jar and held it by the wide section, rotating it. He turned it to show everyone. Indeed, it looked just like the head of that monstrosity.

"Well…?" Wright asked, confident. "Is this a miracle or what? No one can possibly deny this jar's resemblance to the Blue Badger!"

"No…" Miles muttered. "It can't be!"

The gallery started muttering until the judge banged his gavel.

"Order! Order!" he bellowed. "The defense has proven its claim. The mysterious 'Blue Badger' witnessed on the day of the crime was actually this…"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "Although we all enjoyed Mr. Wright's dramatic performance, one question remains…" He struck his desk. "What's your point!?"

"What do you mean?" Wright replied.

"So that Badger thing was actually just a jar. That doesn't change anything!"

"Objection! I'm afraid that's where you're wrong, Mr. Edgeworth. You see…" He paused to slam his desk. "this changes everything!"

"Indeed? Very well, then. Please tell us… What's different now that we know the witness saw this jar?"

"Allow me to take these in turn. At the moment of the murder, the witness saw this jar."

"Not only that, but she saw it at a very specific angle."

"Knowing this, where could she have seen this jar?"

"Where…?" the judge asked, confused as usual.

"The location of the jar is shown in a picture taken on the day of the crime. It's on a shelf in the office of Damon Gant."

"Objection!" Miles yelled, hitting his desk. "But the body was found lying near Lana Skye's desk! The witness testified so herself!"

"Objection!" Wright hit his desk. "Yes! And it is these two facts that reveal what actually transpired! You see… The struggle between Darke and Marshall did not take place in Lana Skye's office! It happened on the other side of the room, in Chief Gant's office!"

"Objection! Are you implying the murderer moved the victim's body? From Damon Gant's office to Lana Skye's office?"

"Yes."

"Why would he do that!? There's no reason!"

Wright nodded. "Exactly," he said. "If there wasn't a 'reason'… he wouldn't have gone through the trouble. The only logical conclusion… is that there was a 'reason.'"

"Do you know what that reason was, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"Please recall the witness's testimony. She said she knocked away the man who was holding up the knife. In the next instant, the jar was hit and flew through the air. Now tell me… What could have sent the jar flying?"

"That would have to have been… the impact the man made when he was knocked into the wall?"

"Ladies and gentlemen… if I may draw your attention to this picture once more. If the man was knocked in the direction of the shelf the jar was sitting on… what would he have hit?"

"A-AHHHHHH…" Ema whimpered.

"The suit of armor!" the judge answered. "Holding… a very sharp and dangerous-looking sword…"

"Yes," Wright said. "And since the man who was knocked into the armor was carrying a broken knife… he would have had to have been Neil Marshall, wielding the Prosecutor's Award."

"No…" Miles said. "Mr. Wright… You can't be thinking…"

"Yes. There is another possibility of what actually transpired in that room."

"Another possibility?" the judge asked.

Wright banged on his desk. "Of course the perpetrator would have had no idea, but nevertheless!" Wright started sweating profusely.

"Mr. Wright? What's the matter?"

"If events took place as the defense theorizes…" Miles said, "then the outcome is obvious. In that moment… assuming the man Ema Skye knocked away was actually Prosecutor Neil Marshall…" Miles could not bring himself to finish. The dead silence in the courtroom established that everyone understood what Wright was implying.

"You mean…" Ema stammered, "Mr. Marshall died… because of… me…? NOOOOOOOOOO!!"

With that scream, Ema fainted on the stand.

"I never imagined her testimony would lead to this…" Miles said, trying to contain his shock.

"So it was the witness who took the victim's life…" the judge confirmed, "and then proved so with her own testimony! This is unprecedented!"

The gallery filled the courtroom with noise, but one voice silenced them better than the judge's gavel possibly could.

"Objection!" Lana yelled, breaking free from the bailiff's grasp and running to the stand. "What… What are you saying!?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Skye," Wright said, "but given the circumstances…"

"Joe Darke murdered Prosecutor Marshall! How can you think it was Ema!? How dare you try to pin the crime on her!?" She started biting her thumb.

_Apparently, you think it's possible, Lana._

"Imagine that, coming from you," Miles countered. "If you recall, it was you who admitted to forging evidence two years ago. The reason you moved Prosecutor Marshall's body… was to keep anyone else from finding out what Ema did, wasn't it?"

"I assure you, Mr. Edgeworth," Lana snapped, "I have no idea what you're talking about. If you hope to have anyone believe your insane allegations, I'm afraid you're going to have to have proof. Tell me… Do you have any conclusive evidence that proves my sister killed Neil Marshall?"

"E-evidence?" Wright stuttered.

"I'm willing to bet you don't."

"Yes… it certainly would be difficult to prove this with evidence," the judge agreed.

"If we don't have evidence," Miles responded, "then we'll have to rely on testimony."

Lana turned away. "I'm afraid that won't work in this case," she said. "Both parties involved in this incident are dead."

"Hmph. Touché, Ms. Skye. Of course… That only leaves us with one possibility."

"What do you mean, Mr. Edgeworth?" the judge demanded.

"I mean, the possibility that the victim has left us a message. For better or for worse, Mr. Marshall did not die instantly. He may have left behind the name of the person who took his life… somehow."

"That's…" Lana stammered. "That's impossible!" She looked to Miles. He could see in her eyes that she was scared.

_I'm sorry, Lana, but I'm not turning back._

The judge banged his gavel. "Well, Mr. Wright?" he asked. "This is the only possibility left to you. A message from the deceased… Does such a message exist?"

"The real murderer's name that the victim may have left behind…" Wright trailed off. He struck his desk. "This 'message' from the deceased… is already in our possession."

"Mr. Wright!" Lana yelled. "Will you stop at nothing to prove my sister a murderer?"

"Do not be mistaken, Ms. Skye," Miles said. "Our purpose is not to accuse Ema of any crime. There is only one thing we seek: the truth." Miles hit his desk. "No matter how painful it may be."

The judge banged his gavel. "Now then, Mr. Wright," he said. "Please show us the piece of evidence… that conveys a message from the deceased!"

"This is the message from the deceased," Wright said, indicating the jar.

"This is that 'Blue Badger' from before, right?"

"Oh, is he going to just speak the killer's name?" Lana joked, clearly furious.

"If that thing could, I'm sure it would," Miles said.

"A message was left here…" Wright said, "on the surface of this jar."

"What do you mean?" the judge asked.

"If you look closely, you can see a faint trail of blood on this jar."

"It looks like someone wiped the blood away," Miles said. _If Ema's the killer, I'd bet every dollar to my name that Lana did it._

"Yes, but notice: for some reason…" Wright said, "the blood on some of the fragments was not wiped away."

"Yes…" the judge agreed, "there is a line here… drawn in blood!"

"So what you're saying," Miles confirmed, "is that these 'dots'… were once lines!"

"Prosecutor Marshall did not die instantly," Wright said. "He used the few precious moments left to him to leave behind a message!"

"One that someone apparently wiped away… But blood must have seeped into the jar where the lines change directions."

Wright pounded on his desk. "Precisely so! All we need to do is connect these points… and the victim's message will become apparent!"

"N-no…!" Lana whimpered, again biting her thumb."

The judge banged his gavel. "Mr. Wright!" he called. "What kind of message did the victim leave for us!?"

"Your Honor…" Wright replied, "I believe these blood stains will reveal to us the answer!"

Wright took a pen and started scribbling on the surface of the jar. When he was done, he showed the message. The ink connected the dots to show Ema's name.

"'Ema'…" Wright said.

"So this is the final message Prosecutor Marshall left behind," Miles stated.

"Of all people…" the judge said. "She may not have meant it… but in the end, the one who took the victim's life…"

"was Ema Skye," Wright finished.

Miles saw a tear flow from Lana's right eye.

_I'm sorry, Lana._

"See, Worthy?" Gant's voice teased. "Can't say I didn't warn you." Gant had managed to walk in without anyone noticing, and was now in Lana's place at the stand.

"Chief Gant…" Miles said.

"Do you understand the implications of what you've done?"

"What…? What are you talking about?"

"Two years ago, Joe Darke was sentenced to death. He was convicted because of his final murder." He grasped his tie in his left hand and smiled sinisterly. "I believe you were the prosecutor in the case, were you not?"

"Ack!" _I… I proved…_

"Yes, Worthy," Gant said. "Because of you… an innocent man was sentenced to death. Not only that… but you used forged evidence to ensure his conviction!"

"K-kkckck!" Miles hissed. "KKCKRRAAAAHH!!"

"Objection!" Wright yelled. "But Joe Darke really was a serial murderer! That's undeniable!"

"I'm afraid that's not important," Gant replied. "Didn't you know? We aren't defenders of justice."

"What?"

"We're merely keepers of the law. Sentencing a man to death… is no light matter. Even if there wasn't any cover-up or evidence forgery… ultimately the responsibility falls on the prosecutor in charge."

_I… I failed…_

"Despite what anyone may say, this fact cannot be denied," Gant said.

The courtroom was noisier than a military jet. The judge attempted in vain to restore order. Ultimately, he was unable to do so, and instead declared a recess.

* * *

Miles walked into the Defendant Lobby; he knew that finding the truth would require more than just his own efforts. He had plenty of doubts about himself, but he had no doubts about what he had to do next. The forgery had been exposed, but there was more to be found—such as Gant's role. He knew he had to face that man, and he was not going to leave until only one of them was left standing. The police were the keepers of the law, as Gant had said, but Miles was no keeper of the law. As a lawyer, he was a defender of justice.

"Sorry, Edgeworth," Wright said. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble…"

"Hmph," Miles scoffed. "Don't worry about it. This is my problem, not yours."

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything, pals," Gumshoe said as he entered the lobby with a loud slam of the door. Neither Miles nor Wright responded. "Oh… Guess I am. I'll come back later." He turned to walk away.

"Oh, Detective Gumshoe!" Wright called. "What is it?" Gumshoe turned around.

"You've got a lot of nerve, pal! Making a detective run all around while on duty, and to top it off you call me here… I've seen happier people at funerals!"

"I take it Lana's having you run errands again."

"Let me tell you, this is the last time, pal!" He took a book out of his coat. "Here. She asked me to give this to you if there was a break in today's trial."

"'Evidence Law'?"

"The Chief Prosecutor also wanted me to give you a message."

"A message?"

"She said, 'If you're planning to take HIM on, you're going to need this book.'"

Wright put the book in his coat.

_So it is Gant…_

"Doesn't look like that book'll do you any good now though," Gumshoe said. "All that's left now is the Chief Prosecutor's sentence."

"That's where you're wrong, Detective," Wright replied.

"Huh?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Miles asked the oaf. "Why I'm still sitting in that prosecutor's seat… despite all these allegations being thrown at me?"

"Mr. Edgeworth…"

"The real trial today… hasn't begun yet."

"What!? What else is there left to do? Your credibility's been all but ruined with this forged evidence you were unaware of, Ema Skye found out she unwittingly caused a man's death… And now you're telling me you want to do more!? You've gotta be kidding me, pal!"

"You're missing the point, Detective. Lana didn't murder Detective Goodman."

_And she actually told you that?_

"She merely stuck a knife into his dead body," Wright said. "That means the real killer… is still out there."

"What!?" Gumshoe almost screamed.

Miles walked out of the lobby and to the medical office. Knowing Lana, she would probably be at Ema's side. The truth was going to come out soon; he knew it. However, he wanted to hear the words from Lana's lips. He pushed the door open and saw Lana sitting in a chair next to Ema, who was still unconscious and lying on her back on a bed (if it could be called that). Lana looked over, saw who had come, and instantly turned her head back to face Ema.

"Now is not the time to distance yourself from me," Miles said, taking a chair and sitting down across from Lana. He would have sat next to her and held her hand, but he was worried that she might be angry with him and hurt him.

"Why are you here?" Lana asked bitterly, not bothering to face her former fiancée.

"Because I want—no, I need—to hear the truth from you."

"I've already—"

"Stop right there. You have nothing to gain anymore from lying. Whether you hinder us or help us, Wright and I will both fight to find the truth, even if we have to strike you down to do so."

Lana turned to face Miles and glared at him. "You've turned my sister into a killer. I have nothing to tell you."

"Fine. Then I'll tell you the truth. It's Gant. He's the one who's been tormenting you these past two years, and I am going to call him to the stand and drag the truth out of him. He knew about what you did to the crime scene and held it over your head to control you."

"And where's your proof it's Gant?"

"In Wright's coat pocket."

"Excuse me?"

"Gumshoe handed him a book in the Defendant Lobby. I believe it was titled _Evidence Law_?"

"Ah…" She started biting her thumb.

"I don't know what's going to happen between us after this trial is over, but there's one thing that book made clear to me: you're innocent, and you lied to protect Ema. I don't know everything, but I know that. And… You intend to defeat him. That book has a purpose, or else you would not have given it to Wright." Miles tried to look Lana in the eye, but she turned away.

"All the times you've been there to comfort me," Miles said, "you looked me right in the eye and did everything you could to make me listen. Now it's my turn. You're not fighting Gant alone. I'm angry with you for lying to me, but I can still tell that I love you, too. Now, Lana… please… Tell me the truth. You didn't kill Goodman, did you?"

Lana didn't respond. Miles got up from his chair and kneeled down on the floor in front of her.

"Do you really want it to end this way?" he asked her. In a swift motion, he reached over and took Lana's left hand in his right hand. "Lana… You can trust me." She attempted to free her hand, but Miles refused, simply tightening his grip. "You can keep pretending to serve Gant in court and feigning guilt; I won't question it in there. But here, I only care about seeing proof that I still have some reason to trust you. I said it before, and I will say it again: I love you. And now we can finally fight to set you free, side by side."

Miles felt Lana's hand stop trying to free itself. "Even if you set me free, Ema—"

"Ema will be fine. Considering the circumstances, even Manfred von Karma would not be able to prove her guilty of anything more than justified self-defense. If I have to, I will personally hire the best defense attorney for her that I can find. After all she's done to help us find the truth, I owe it to her—and you. You have my word that she will not be seen as a criminal."

Lana said nothing. He could see the anger had left her eyes, though.

"Please tell me: what really happened? What you say here is not admissible as testimony."

"You're right," Lana finally said. "Gant… he's the blackmailer you're looking for. I didn't kill Goodman. Gant just told me to dispose of the body. When I saw that… that…" She paused.

"You removed it and put my knife in the wound," Miles finished.

"Y-yes… But Ms. Starr caught me."

"And Gant? Is he the killer?"

"I don't know, but that's what I think."

"Then we have even more reason to fight him. The truth will come out—all of it." He got up, still holding Lana's hand. At last, Lana looked at him. "Would a kiss be asking too much?"

He saw Lana's sad eyes lose their veil of tears as the rest of her face shifted into a faint smile. She stood up, placing her right hand in Miles's left, and leaned toward Miles. He, in turn, leaned in towards Lana's face and placed a light kiss on her lips.

"I don't think I'm ready to marry you," Miles said after their lips parted, still holding Lana's hands, "but I know for a fact that I don't want to leave your side. You've always been there for me, so now—"

Miles heard a knock on the door.

"This never happened," Lana said, changing her expression back to the ice sculpture it had been these past two years. Miles let go of her hands with a nod and managed to force his own face back to an emotionless gaze.

"What is it?" Miles asked the person behind the door.

"Oh!" Gumshoe yelped, opening the door. "M-Mr. Edgeworth!"

"What is it?"

"Court's gonna start up again."

"I see."

Miles walked out the door with Gumshoe, Lana following.

* * *

The judge called court back into session with a whack of his gavel.

"The court will now reconvene for the trial of Ms. Lana Skye," he said. "Mr. Edgeworth."

"Yes, Your Honor?" Miles asked.

"The inquiry committee is planning to impose harsh penalties for your actions."

Miles took a bow. _I'll be ashamed later._ "Thank you for the news, Your Honor."

"Yes, well…" The judge cleared his throat. "Normally, this is where the prosecution calls forth a witness… but, er…" He cleared his throat again and coughed a couple of times. "This isn't easy to say… You see, there is some concern that Mr. Edgeworth may have, ah…"

"Struck a bargain?" Miles finished. "You think I may have manipulated the witnesses."

"I didn't say that! It's just, you see… Everyone has been talking, and…"

_I see… How to proceed… Wait. Wright knows the truth, too._ "Very well, Your Honor. I have a solution."

"A solution?"

"That being the case, the prosecution will allow the defense to call forth all further witnesses."

"What!? But there's never been a case example…"

"Undeniably this is an unusual arrangement, but a very effective one. It would prove that I haven't struck any 'deals' with the witnesses."

"Hmm… Well, Mr. Wright? What do you say?"

"Very well," Wright said with a nod. "The defense accepts the prosecution's proposal."

The judge banged his gavel. "Then it's settled. The, uh… defense… may now call forth the next witness!"

"Mr. Wright," Miles said. "You do realize this is your last chance? If you call the wrong witness, this trial is as good as over."

"The defense calls… Damon Gant," Wright said, hitting his desk. "The defense calls Damon Gant to the stand!"

"D-Damon Gant…?" the judge asked. "What does he have to do with anything!?"

_He has everything to do with everything, Your Honor. And we're going to prove it._

"As the defendant's partner two years ago," Wright explained, Mr. Gant has first-hand knowledge of the crime. I feel we should hear what he has to say about it."

"Hmm…"

"As luck would have it," Miles added, "he should still be in the courthouse. He would also be the least likely to have been manipulated by me in any way. Wouldn't you agree, Your Honor?"

"True… All right. Bailiff! Please escort Mr. Gant to the stand!"

Gant took the stand.

"Witness," Miles called. "Please state your name and occupation."

"What is this, some kind of practical joke?" Gant replied. "I was just on my way to lunch!"

"Your name and occupation, sir."

"Worthy… Are you sure you want to do this?"

_Yes._ Miles struck his desk. "Your name and occupation!"

Gant waited a moment to build up pressure. "So… You want to play hardball, eh?"

"P-please, Mr. Gant," the judge requested.

"Fine. My name is Damon Gant. I'm the acting Chief of Police."

"Now then, Chief Gant," Wright said. "The court requests to hear your testimony."

"Oh, Wrighto. What's with the grim face?"

"First, let's clear up this SL-9 Incident."

"Oh, you mean that time when Lana's sister murdered that prosecutor? Personally, I think it's been made pretty clear already."

"There are still some things unaccounted for."

"Oh? Like what?"

_Like the role you played in all of this._

"Like the role you played in all of this," Wright replied in time with Miles's thoughts.

"Son… Either you're very brave… or very foolish. You are aware of course that a police chief has all kinds of weapons at his disposal?"

"'Weapons'…?"

"Sure. Take my testimony, for example. I don't have to give it if I don't want to."

"What? Is that true?"

"I'm afraid so…" the judge answered. "The Chief of Police has the right to refuse to testify."

"Of course," Miles added, "such an action carries with it certain risks…"

"Don't worry," Gant said. "I'm not here to hinder your trial. Just remember… If this turns out to be a big waste of time, don't say I didn't warn you."

The judge banged his gavel. "Very well," he said. "The witness may now begin his testimony."

"As I recall, Neil and I were questioning him that day. To make a long story short, we slipped up. That power outage didn't help either. When I went to my office, I found Lana there. Apparently she had already… 'arranged' the crime scene. As you can see, I had nothing to do with the 'forgery.'"

"Hmm… Is that when Darke was arrested?"

"Him? He was lying on the floor unconscious. When Ema sent Neil flying… it seems Darke bumped his head."

"I see… Everything seems pretty clear-cut."

"You claim you had nothing to do with the forgery…" Wright said, shaking his head after pausing, "but I'm afraid that is a claim you cannot back up!"

"Explain yourself," Gant requested, fiddling with his hair and not appearing to feel threatened in the least.

"Several pieces of evidence were found in your office. Take this list, for example." Wright held up his half of the SL-9 evidence list.

"That's the list Ema Skye drew her picture on…" the judge said.

"This was discovered in your desk. Not only that, but a piece of this jar that was sitting in your office…" He paused and hit his desk. "was found inside your safe!"

"It was found where!?"

"You see, Chief Gant. These articles of evidence uncovered in your office…" He paused again to strike his desk. "are both concrete proof… that you also played a part in the illegal investigation!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel. "Chief Gant! What's the meaning of this!?"

"Ho!" Gant scoffed. "Here's a defense attorney who may even rival Worthy!"

_Wright, you got careless. Though I believe you, you don't have proof that you're right._

"So you admit to it, then?" Wright pressed. "That you were involved in the forgery?"

"Who, me?" Gant taunted. "Or do you mean… you?"

"Me? Why would I have anything to do with that!?"

"Well… You were the one who snuck into my office when you 'found' this evidence. Prosecutors aren't the only ones capable of forging evidence, you know. Defense attorneys can do so too. Isn't that right, Wrighto?"

"Objection!" Miles barked, striking his desk. "However! Detective Gumshoe was present during the investigation!"

"Worthy, my boy. Not even detectives are exempt from the law. Rest assured Dick will receive his due punishment."

"Wh…" _You're one to talk, Gant!_

"WHAAAAT!?" Wright screamed.

The judge banged his gavel. "Yes, well," he said. "In light of the detective's presence… please give us your testimony regarding these pieces of evidence found in your office, and their relation to the forgery that took place at the crime scene."

"My, my…" Gant teased. "Kids these days no longer know how to put two and two together…"

_Understandable when their teacher says it's five._

"Let's see, what was it now?" Gant confirmed. "A jar fragment… and a list? For all I know, you could have planted them in my office. anyway, you can't prove 'when' those pieces of evidence were discovered. If they were found after Darke was convicted, then they're worthless. There's no reason I'd participate in a forgery. Rearranging the crime scene wouldn't help me out in any way."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Mr. Wright."

"Yes, Your Honor?" Wright replied.

"When investigating the crime scene… you should have been more careful to observe protocol."

"You do understand that I am the Chief of Police, right?" Gant added, clapping his hands. "There will be consequences…"

"Ooh…" Wright groaned.

"Indeed, I believe I will press charges… so you won't make the same mistake again."

"My apologies, Chief," the judge cut in, "but would you mind waiting until tomorrow for that? Today is… well, you know…"

"All right, Udgey. In return, though…"

"I know! I know! That place, right?"

_And now I'm curious about what makes today special for the judge… No matter; we have more important things to worry about._

"Are you saying this jar fragment… wasn't discovered in the initial investigation?" Wright asked.

"It would appear not," Gant replied. "After all, it wasn't listed in the evidence list. For all we know, it could have suddenly materialized the day after Darke was sentenced."

"Objection!" Wright pounded on his desk. "Oh, and wouldn't that be convenient…"

"Wright," Miles interrupted. "The Chief is talking about a 'possibility.' So long as you can't rule that out, your remarks, however clever they may be, will only succeed in wasting time."

"Come now, Mr. Wright," Gant said. "Think about it. There's no reason I'd participate in a forgery. Rearranging the crime scene wouldn't help me out in any way."

"Really, Chief Gant?" Wright asked. "At the very least, there is one very large benefit you've reaped from all this."

"Oh? I wasn't aware. What is this 'benefit'?"

"That of course would be the position you have—Chief of Police."

"Oh…" the judge said.

"The resolution of the SL-9 Incident secured your promotion to Chief. That in itself is sufficient motive!"

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" Gant guffawed, clapping. "Oh, that's a good one!"

"Huh?"

"Do you really think I'm that incompetent?"

"What do you mean?"

"Even without that case, I was already next in line to become the next chief. The resolution of SL-9 merely sped up the inevitable a little."

"Is that true, Edgeworth?" Wright asked.

"Yes…" Miles replied. "He was going to be made Chief anyway."

"Gah!"

"Be careful when pointing that finger…" Gant warned, "or you might wind up being the one pointed at!"

"So that means…" Miles said, "there's only one possible motivation for you to commit forgery. If you didn't do it for yourself… then you did it for someone else." _Your lovely assistant._

"Don't be silly, Worthy," Gant responded. "You know me better than that. There are only three people I look out for: Me, Myself and I. There, it's out in the open now. Udgey, would you mind if I changed my testimony a little?"

"By all means, please do!" the judge replied.

"I wouldn't be anyone's 'accomplice' if there was nothing in it for me."

"'Nothing in it' for you?" Wright asked.

"Sorry, but the only person I care about is Yours Truly. That girl… Lana's little sister, was it? If you think I felt sorry for her, you'd better think again."

"You're right…" Miles commented. "You don't feel sorry for anyone."

"Be tough on crime and tough on people. That's how I was raised."

"You seem to be lax enough on yourself, though."

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Oh, that's a good one, Worthy!"

"True, you might not help out anyone for their sake," Wright said. "But if it would benefit you… you might decide to assist someone."

_And now we finally get to show the world Gant's true colors._

"Mr. Wright," the judge said. "It appears you're positively determined to portray the Chief… as a nice man who likes to lend people a hand."

_As clueless as ever._

The judge banged his gavel. "Very well, I'll ask," he continued. "Who is this person you believe Chief Gant may have helped forge evidence?"

"Lana Skye," Wright replied.

"Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye… Th-the defendant!?"

"I believe it's quite obvious in light of the circumstances. Ema Skye fell victim to an unfortunate series of events. Who would want to help her more than her own sister, Lana? And as for Chief Gant… he would also have a reason to help Lana if she asked him to." Wright banged on his desk. "That reason, of course, is… self profit."

"Self profit…? What do you mean?"

"After the SL-9 Incident was resolved… Lana Skye was appointed Chief Prosecutor at the Prosecutor's Office. The person who arranged this job change… was you, Chief Gant."

"B-but… how would he profit from all of this?"

"He would be able to use the Chief Prosecutor as his puppet!" Miles answered. He struck his desk. "Essentially… he would acquire unchecked authority over all investigations!"

"Do you mean to tell me… that despite the Chief's formidable appearance, he plays with puppets!?"

_Idiot…_

"Oh, wait," the judge corrected. "You must mean 'puppet' as in someone forced to do his bidding… Never mind!"

Wright slammed his desk. "Admit it, Chief!" he pressed. "You assisted Lana Skye in forging evidence! Your motive: to appoint her as Chief Prosecutor so you could control her!"

"Wrighto, my boy," Gant replied. "You have quite an imagination. Let me ask you something."

"What?"

"Do you have any proof of this? That I 'controlled' Lana? For example, is Lana testifying that I've done such a thing?"

"Lana…"

_Even now, I doubt she'd testify against him. As long as she believes Ema's threatened by him, she'll keep quiet._

"I'm afraid without any proof," the judge said, "this all amounts to nothing more than mere conjecture."

"Unless…" Miles said, "that is also what happened in this incident…"

"'This' incident…? Er… which one would that be?"

_The one Lana's on trial for, Judge Clousless._

"Of course I'm talking about the murder of Detective Bruce Goodman," Miles answered. "The Chief Prosecutor has been acting strange throughout this entire trial. Almost as if… someone has been 'controlling' her!"

"Worthy…" Gant said. "You'd better watch your tongue… I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

_This duel is not to first blood, Gant. What's one small wound compared to the one you gave me two years ago?_

"Just what do you mean?" the judge asked.

Wright hit his desk. "What he means, Your Honor," he explained, "is that Chief Gant is involved in the murder of Detective Goodman. Not only that… but the Chief is now making Lana take the rap to cover up his involvement!"

"Wha… wha… wha… WWWHHHAAAAAATTT!!"

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge banged his gavel repeatedly.

Order! Order! Order! I SAID… ORDEEEEERRRR!! Mr. Wright! You… You can't be serious!"

"Huh?" Wright asked.

"This… This is an affront to the highest ranking officer in our law enforcement agency! To accuse the Chief of Police of blackmail… and murder!! That's i… i… i-i-i-i-i-i-i-IMPOSSIBLE!!"

The gallery started murmuring again.

_All are equal before the law, Your Honor. The police are the keepers of the law, but the courts are the defenders of justice._

"Your Honor," Wright stammered, "I was merely reiterating… what Mr. Edgeworth said, in easier-to-understand language."

Miles smiled evilly. "It's too late, Mr. Wright," he replied. He hit his desk. "There's no turning back for us now."

The judge banged his gavel. "Can you prove this, Mr. Wright?" he asked. "that the Chief, a high-ranking officer of the law, is involved in this murder!?"

"Regardless of his rank or title," Miles said, "Chief Gant is just a man. The question is, is he a criminal? I believe the evidence will tell."

"I see. Alright, then. Show us this evidence that ties Chief Gant to the murder of Detective Goodman. Just remember… It better be good!"

"Take that!" Wright shouted, holding up the ID Card Record.

"This is the ID card list…"

"Yes, the one that shows who entered the evidence room on the day of the crime. There was one ID on the list we couldn't determine the owner of yesterday… 7777777."

"Sorry, but there's no way you can prove that's my card number," Gant said.

"It's your number."

"What!?" the judge yelped. "How do you know that!?"

"The safe in Chief Gant's Office requires a code to open. A seven-digit code…"

"Seven digits… You don't mean…"

"I'm afraid so, Your Honor. The code was '7777777'… The same as the remaining ID card number on that list!" He pounded on his desk. "Chief Gant! You entered the evidence room on the day of the crime!"

_Judging by the change of expression on your face, Gant, I imagine you are tiring out. Don't worry. One thrust to the heart is all it takes to end this._

The gallery started murmuring. The judge banged his gavel.

"Order! Order!" he shouted. "Chief Gant! What do you have to say!?"

Gant was silent for a moment. His right fist was clenched, sweat on his brow. "Nothing," he said. "The defense's search of my office was in violation of regulations."

"And I will demand Mr. Wright be punished to the maximum extent of the law," Miles said. He then hit his desk. "But right now, this court demands an explanation from you… about the use of this ID card!"

Gant said nothing. The judge banged his gavel.

"Chief Gant!" he exclaimed. "So you admit it? You entered the evidence room… on the day of the crime!?"

"What about it? I'm Chief of Police. Whether it's the evidence room or the bathroom, what's the difference? I can go anywhere I want."

"Tell me," Miles requested. "When you entered the room… were you alone?"

"I always go to the bathroom alone… as I do with the evidence room."

"Detective Goodman wouldn't have happened to be with you that day… would he?" Wright asked."

"O-of course not! Why would he be? I hadn't seen him in days!"

"Objection! You hadn't seen him… 'in days'? Chief Gant… I'm afraid you've just undone yourself." He pounded on his desk, then pointed at Gant. "On that day, you had to have met with Detective Goodman!"

The judge banged his gavel. "What do you mean!?" he asked. "This trial's purpose is to determine Lana Skye's guilt!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted, striking his desk. "No it isn't, Your Honor. This trial's purpose is to determine the truth. If Chief Gant met the victim on the day of the crime," He struck his desk again. "then we need to determine one thing: what transpired during that meeting!"

The judge banged his gavel. "In that case, Mr. Wright!" he called. "I'm going to have to ask you for evidence! Show us proof that the victim went to meet Chief Gant on the day of the crime!"

"Detective Goodman lost his ID card on the day of the crime," Wright replied.

"Or to be more accurate, Jake Marshall stole it," Miles stated.

"So Detective Goodman filled out a lost item report. He would have had to give that report… to the Chief of Police!"

"Yet you are in possession of the report…" Gant sneered, "which means you can't be sure if he filed it."

"He filed it. How do I know, you ask? Because he needed to enter the evidence room that day."

"He needed to?" the judge asked.

"Yes. To transfer the evidence out."

"Oh…"

"Detective Goodman took the form to you, Chief Gant. Then… you accompanied the detective to the evidence room!"

"I 'accompanied' him?" Gant asked through gritted teeth.

"There's no other way the murderer and Detective Goodman could have entered the room!"

The gallery began murmuring.

"Hold on," Gant said. "Let me guess what you're going to say next. I, the Chief of Police, murdered poor Goodman!"

"Exactly," Wright said with a nod.

"But wait!" the judge interrupted. "The Chief didn't necessarily need to accompany him to the evidence room. He could have just lent him his ID card."

"Yes…" Gant confirmed. "Now that you mention it, I believe I might have done something of the sort."

"Objection!" Miles barked. "Sorry, but that's not possible. According to the record, your card was used only once. But you showed us your ID card earlier. If you had really 'lent' it to Detective Goodman," Miles hit his desk. "it would have been found on his body!"

"N… NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

The gallery filled the courtroom with noise. The judge banged his gavel to calm them. "Chief Gant!" he cried. 'Y-you didn't…!"

"The murder was most likely committed on the spur of the moment," Wright said. "No one in their right mind would choose the Police Department as a place to commit murder. After the murder, you contacted Lana at the Prosecutor's office. Why else? To dispose of Detective Goodman's body."

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "However, the victim's body was discovered in the Prosecutor's Office's parking lot. How did he manage to move it there?"

"I was at the Police Department the entire day, you know," Gant said.

"And everyone's aware that Lana stayed at the Prosecutor's Office after the ceremony."

"Everyone except me, it seems…" Wright thought out loud. "Still, you're the Chief of Police. You have an entire police force at your disposal."

"Oh, so you think I just ordered an officer to do it?" Gant taunted. "'Hey you. Take this here dead body over to the Prosecutor's Office.' I don't think so…"

"Chief Gant. You left all the evidence we need to prove how you moved the body to the Prosecutor's Office."

The judge banged his gavel. "How could the Chief have moved the body!?" he demanded. "Mr. Wright! Show us this evidence!"

"To move the victim's body… Chief Gant used this!" He took out a screwdriver. "This is how he moved Detective Goodman's body!"

"What's that? A screwdriver? But what does that have to do with this case?"

"Mr. Edgeworth. Think back to the day of the crime. What is this screwdriver doing here?"

"It's here because…" Miles trailed off. _Wait… No! _"A-AAAHHHH!" _That's why he had me retrieve that stupid tool!?_ "After the ceremony ended that day, I didn't plan to return to the Prosecutor's Office."

"But you did. Because Chief Gant asked you to."

"You mean I… I…"

"The body was found in the trunk of Mr. Edgeworth's car. I think it's obvious what happened. The body was moved by that car!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel. "Detective Goodman's body…" he exclaimed, "was carried in the trunk of Mr. Edgeworth's car!"

"Yes. Unless, of course, you have another explanation, Chief? Why else would you have asked Mr. Edgeworth to carry evidence from a closed case? There's only one plausible explanation: to transport the body to your accomplice… Ms. Lana Skye!"

The gallery began murmuring again. The judge banged his gavel yet again.

"Order! Order! Order!" he shouted. "What's going on here!? Is there no room for rebuttal to the defense's outrageous accusations!?"

"Think back to the photograph Ms. Starr took at the Prosecutor's Office," Wright said. "This was not a photo of the body being stuffed in the trunk to be taken away. It was exactly the opposite…"

"It is a photo of the body being taken from the trunk!" Miles finished.

"Chief Gant!" the judge barked. "Please, say something!"

"I believe…" Gant said, pausing until the court was silent, "your time's up."

"My 'time's up'?"

"Sorry, Wrighto, but I'm having lunch with the District Attorney General after this. We have to get going if we're going to make it in time for the early bird special."

"Objection!" Wright yelled. "B-but… The cross-examination isn't finished yet!"

"Remember what I told you earlier? A police chief… has all kinds of weapons at his disposal."

"'Weapons'…?"

"Like the right to refuse to testify. I'm invoking that right now."

"What!?" the judge howled. "That is not a right to be casually invoked. There are certain risks to be considered!"

"Objection!" Miles roared, striking his desk. "So you're going to just run away after all this!?"

"'Run away'?" Gant repeated. "Don't make me laugh, Worthy."

_Cur!_

"'I stabbed ol' Goodman.' That's what you're saying, right?" Gant taunted. "But if you had any conclusive evidence, you would have presented it by now."

"Well I…" Wright stammered.

"You think I had Lana dispose of the body? If so, then show your proof and get it over with!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I'll say it again, Mr. Wright. Damon Gant is the current Chief of Police. This court will not tolerate any accusations against him without concrete proof. Well, Mr. Wright?"

"Y-Your Honor?" Wright replied.

"Do you have any concrete proof? Proof that Chief Gant murdered Detective Goodman and made Ms. Skye dispose of his body?"

_Unfortunately, Gant's right. If there was any, Wright would have presented it along with his accusation._

"No, Your Honor," Wright said. "At present I have no conclusive evidence."

"Hmph!" Gant scoffed. "See, Udgey?"

"In that case…" the judge said, "this court is forced to penalize you for your allegations against the Chief."

"What?" Wright yelped.

"I don't gamble unless the stakes are high!" Gant said. "It seems that Lady Luck was on my side again today. Okay Udgey, I'll leave the rest to you!"

_Think! That coward's going to get away! How can we prove he's the killer!?_

"I warned you earlier, Mr. Wright," the judge said. "This… is an affront to a senior officer in our nation's law enforcement agency."

_Lana… I'm… No, wait… That's it! Lana!_

"WAAAAAAAHHHH!!" Wright screamed.

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "'Lady Luck,' hm? Maybe we should have a word with her."

"Mr. Edgeworth?" the judge asked. "What do you mean!?"

"There's one 'Lady' who knows the real truth behind this trial… We haven't yet had the honor of hearing her testimony. In the absence of conclusive evidence, the only other method of proof is testimony."

"But Chief Gant has invoked his right to refuse to testify!" Wright replied.

"There's still someone else." _Use your head, Wright. I said a lady, not a coward._ "One more witness who can answer all the questions raised in this trial. Someone right in this very room!"

"Mr. Edgeworth!" the judge called. "Who is this person!?"

"Hmph… Why are you asking me, Your Honor? Have you forgotten? The defense is the one calling witnesses today."

The judge banged his gavel. "Mr. Wright. Does such a witness exist?"

"Yes, Your Honor!" Wright answered. "The defense calls forth… Lana Skye!"

"The defendant… Ms. Lana Skye!?"

"She was in the underground parking lot at 5:15 PM on February 21. Her task: to dispose of the victim's body…" He paused to hit his desk. "in accordance with a certain someone's orders!"

"Hmm… Mr. Edgeworth…?"

"The prosecution has no objections, Your Honor," Miles replied. _It's only fitting that Lana be the one to deal the final blow._

The judge banged his gavel again. "Very well. The court will now take its final recess for the day. In fifteen minutes, we will reconvene to hear the defendant's testimony. This court is now in re—"

"Hold on!" Gant's voice called.

"Huh?" The judge noticed Gant had taken the stand again. "Chief Gant! I thought you were going to eat."

"Listen good, Lana!" he warned. "I don't think you need me to tell you this, but if you accept Mr. Wright's claim… there will be terrible consequences. That's right… Your sister will be found guilty… for Neil Marshall's murder!"

"Ah!" Wright yelped.

_Not on my watch, coward._

"Of course, you'd never support such outrageous claims anyway… right?" Gant continued. "Just something to think about… All right then. I've got a lunch date to meet." Gant left the courtroom.

_I doubt anyone in the courtroom now thinks of him as innocent. He just openly threatened Lana._

"Okay," the judge said after recovering from the shock of Gant's threat. "If there aren't any further objections… this court is now in recess!"

* * *

Lana decided to stay in the courtroom. Given the situation, Miles thought it best for her to choose the right course of action. He had had his say with her, so it was pointless to continue trying to push her his way. Instead, Miles decided to join Wright at the Defendant Lobby. He was already there.

"Looks like we managed to stay in the game," Miles said.

"Yeah," Wright replied. "Thanks to your help, Edgeworth."

"That Chief…" Gumshoe commented, walking in. "He's something else, eh pals?"

"Detective Gumshoe!"

"Ha ha ha. I'm not a 'detective' anymore."

"Oh yeah. Sorry about that…"

"Ah, don't worry. I've already decided where to work now! At your office!"

"My office…?"

"Sure! I'll take the place of that top-knotted girl you used to work with!"

_Right… Maya… I wonder what became of her…_

"Still…" Gumshoe sighed. "Looks like we're all out of moves now."

_And so is Gant._

"Chief Gant's done it again," Gumshoe moaned. "How is it he always gets the upper hand!?"

"It's not fair he has the right to refuse to testify!" Wright complained.

"Hmph," Miles scoffed. "Settle down, Wright. Remember what the judge said?"

"'Risks'… What did he mean by that?"

"It's simple. If the Chief refuses to testify, the opposite also holds true."

"You mean, he forfeits his right to say anything too!" Ema's voice finished. Miles turned and saw that Ema had entered.

"Ema!" Wright gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied. "When I came to, I was in the medical office. I've been listening to the trial from the gallery."

_That saves us the trouble of explaining it to her._

"Um, Ema… I'm sorry for what I said before," Wright said.

"No, don't be," Ema replied. "It was the truth. You know, it's funny. I almost feel somehow… relieved."

"'Relieved'?"

"Yeah… Now I finally know what really happened. To think that all this time… my sister was being blackmailed by that terrible man! And she did it all… just to protect me."

"Ever since her appointment as Chief Prosecutor," Miles said, "everyone who knew her… said she changed." _On the outside, at least._ "Perhaps… it was easier that way for her."

"What do you mean?" Gumshoe asked.

"What do you think I mean? To follow Chief Gant's orders. She must have shut herself up deep inside… to force herself to do anything and everything the Chief told her to do."

"It was all my fault," Ema whimpered. "It's all because I… I murdered Mr. Marshall."

"Hey," Gumshoe snapped. "Don't go blaming yourself, now. If you want to blame anyone, blame society, pal!"

_Is that what you do when your salary gets cut, Gumshoe? It would certainly explain why you never learn._

"Chief Gant may be able to fool everyone else with his 'forgery,'" Ema said, " but he can't fool my memory. I remember now. I knocked Mr. Marshall into that armor."

"I… I see," Wright said.

"Well, we'd better get back," Gumshoe cut in. "It's time for the final act!"

"Ema, why don't you wait h—"

"No," Ema interrupted. "I'm going with you. I want to be there… when Lana tells the truth."

_And you should be there._ "Let's go, Wright," Miles said. "It's time to end this."

* * *

The judge banged his gavel, bringing court back into session.

"Now then…" he said. "Will the defendant, Ms. Lana Skye, please take the stand?"

Lana walked up to the stand.

"Ms. Lana Skye," Miles said. "You are the Chief Prosecutor. I'm sure you're aware of what is required of you."

"But Mr. Edgeworth…" Lana replied, "you already know everything… You know all that I've done these past two years."

_I do know, Lana, but the court does not, and if you don't want to waste our only chance to strike that dishonorable Chief down, you will testify._

"Please provide the court with your testimony, Ms. Skye," the judge requested. "And remember… you are under oath. We want to hear the truth."

"Of course…" Lana said. "The truth…"

"Lana!" Ema called. "No matter what happens, I'll always be your sister!"

_I'm not going to let you lie._

The judge banged his gavel. "Now then," he said, "your testimony, if you will. First, tell us about your relationship with Gant."

"I worked alongside Gant for years…" Lana said. "There's no truth to this 'blackmail' theory. I fabricated the evidence two years ago all by myself. When I found Prosecutor Marshall's body, I rearranged the crime scene. My only motivation was to get Darke convicted. It had nothing to do with Ema."

"Hmm…" the judge said. "Are you sure about this testimony?"

_She's sure it's a lie; that much I know. I said the truth would come out, and now I'm going to keep my word._

"Your Honor," Lana replied. "I'm confessing to a capital offense. Of course I'm sure."

"But Lana…!" Ema begged. The judge shook his head.

"If this is true," he said, "then that means Chief Gant has nothing to do with this."

"That's what I've been telling you from the beginning," Lana responded.

"Please, Mr. Wright," Ema insisted. "You've got to help her! She's sacrificing herself because of me…"

Wright looked unsure. Apparently, he was concerned that Lana was being honest.

"She's not," Ema said to Wright. "I know my own sister. Whenever she speaks stiffly like that, she's hiding something inside. Deep down, she's really screaming in agony!"

The judge banged his gavel. "The defense may now begin its cross-examination," he said.

"You say you did this all by yourself?" Wright asked.

"Yes," Lana replied.

"Would you mind telling us what you found when you arrived at the crime scene?" Miles requested.

Lana paused for a moment. The memory was no doubt causing her pain as she brought it back to the surface. "It seems I was the first person to discover the scene," she stated. "The broken prosecutor award knife was stuck in the victim's body."

Wright slammed his desk. "What!?" he barked. "But Prosecutor Marshall died from an unfortunate 'accident'!"

"That's only a situation you dreamed was 'possible.' The reality is, it wasn't my sister who took the prosecutor's life! Fantasize all you want, Mr. Wright, but I'll never change this statement!"

"You mean," Miles pressed, "Prosecutor Marshall wound up being killed by Darke?"

"Something like that…"

"If that is so, what happened to the other murder weapon? Darke was carrying a switchblade knife."

"Oh, that was lying on the floor a little distance away. It was probably knocked away in the struggle."

_Your love for your sister is truly touching, Lana, but that will not change what happened._

"All just to protect me…" Ema commented.

The judge banged his gavel. "So when you found the scene like this," he started, "what did you do? After all, this is what everything boils down to!"

"Yes…" Lana replied. "I broke off the tip of Darke's knife, planted it inside the wound, then moved the body."

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "You planted the tip of Darke's knife in the victim's wound?"

"And then you moved the body?" the judge added.

Miles struck his desk. "But why!?" he demanded. "Why would you do that…?"

"You of all people should know, Edgeworth," Lana answered. "You've always had a good head on your shoulders."

_In other words, to protect Ema._

"When you showed up on the scene, where exactly was the victim's body?" Wright asked.

"It was where you deduced it was—by Chief Gant's desk," Lana responded.

"But the body was found by your desk," Miles stated. "Why did you move it there?"

"The reason for that is simple…"

The judge banged his gavel. "Let's have the witness explain this in more detail. The reason Ms. Skye moved the body!"

"The pieces of the jar that shattered during the events threatened my plan."

"Objection!" Wright yelled. "Ms. Skye, I understand how you feel. You committed that 'crime' two years ago to protect your sister."

"You mean the forgery at the scene where Neil Marshall was murdered?" the judge confirmed.

"If that truth were to be exposed now, the past two years of your life…" He paused to hit his desk. "will have been useless. Even so, I am compelled to bring to everyone's attention a significant contradiction within your testimony!"

"A contradiction… in my testimony?" Lana asked.

"You testified, and I quote, 'The pieces of the jar that shattered during the events threatened my plan.'"

"That's right…"

"Do you have a problem with that?" the judge asked.

"It's a simple oversight, really," Wright said. "You see, a message was written on this jar with the victim's blood."

"Yes," Lana agreed. "The prosecutor must have written it in his final moments."

"Exactly so. And this is where the contradiction lies. In order for the victim to be able to write his message on the jar, it must not yet have been broken before he died!"

"Ah…"

Wright banged on his desk. "He couldn't have written Ema's name on a shattered jar!"

The gallery started muttering. The judge banged his gavel to quiet them down.

"Order! Order!" he yelled.

"Your Honor," Miles said. "It would appear more information is needed in regard to this jar, and its bloody message! We may be missing something critical here! Chief Prosecutor. It seems you're as in the dark as we are… about the truth towards which we're headed."

"What…?" Lana replied.

"Just tell us exactly what you saw. We'll piece together the information to arrive at the truth."

"The judge pounded his gavel. "Very well!" he said. "The witness may now continue her testimony!"

"I immediately noticed the blood traces on the jar," Lana testified, "but it was dark in the room and I didn't have time to check it out. To be safe, I wiped away the blood. The fragments were large, so I'm sure I got them all. All I could think about was wiping them clean before they were discovered."

"You mean you were the one who wiped away this message in blood!?"

"I wasn't Chief Prosecutor at the time."

"She didn't think Darke was the real murderer," Ema said. "That's why she tried to erase the 'real evidence.'"

The judge banged his gavel. "Very well," he said. "The defense may now begin its cross-examination."

"Ms. Skye," Wright called. "I believe this jar conceals a truth even you were unaware of."

"What?" Lana replied.

"We found the final piece of this jar in Chief Gant's safe."

"In the Chief's safe? But how…?"

_Now it makes sense… Gant was there before Lana… which means he must have altered the crime scene!_

"There's something even more disturbing about that final piece:" Wright continued. "There was still blood on it."

"But the witness just testified…" the judge said, "that she gathered every last piece and wiped the blood off of them!"

"Yes, which leaves us with only one explanation." Wright hit his desk. "On the night Prosecutor Marshall was murdered… you were not the first one to show up on the scene! Chief Gant got there before you!"

The gallery started murmuring. The judge pounded his gavel repeatedly.

"But couldn't the defendant have simply missed a piece?" he suggested.

"Objection!" Wright yelled, striking his desk again. "I'm afraid that's unlikely. The pieces are too big for anyone to miss, let alone an ace detective!"

"That may well be, but everyone makes mistakes. Even I once wasted an entire day looking for my dentures. They were in my mouth all along! Ha! Can you believe that!?"

"Objection!" Miles barked, pounding on his desk. "Have you forgotten, Your Honor? When this witness arrived at the scene, the jar was already broken."

"Oh, that…"

"There's no way a name could have been written on a shattered jar. Another person discovered the scene prior to the witness!"

"I hope you're not implying this 'person' was Chief Gant. At the time, he was looking for Darke downstairs. Besides, even if he was there first, why would he break the jar?"

"Objection!" Wright shouted, banging on his desk. "The question is, if he did arrive there first, why did he hide that fact for two years!?" Wright slammed his desk again. "Well, Your Honor? Can you answer us that!?"

"Nnnnn… NNNNGHAAAAAAA! Noooooooooooo!"

The gallery began murmuring.

"Wait, I'm not the one on trial here!"

"Damon Gant arrived at the scene prior to the witness," Miles confirmed. "He proceeded to break the jar, and purposefully hid one of the broken pieces. Question: What is this action called?"

"Fabrication…" Wright answered.

"B-but why would Chief Gant do that!?" the judge cried.

"In light of what happened afterwards, isn't it clear?" Miles replied.

"What happened afterwards…?"

"Discovering the scene, Lana Skye believed her sister Ema killed the victim. Determined to help her sister, she sought Gant's aid. Lending her his 'aid,' Gant helped her create evidence that incriminated Darke, sparing Ema. And here is the reason! The reason why Ms. Skye became the Chief's puppet!"

Lana bit her thumb. Miles saw a small amount of blood spray from it. "N-no…" she stammered. "I… I did it on my own…"

"Please, Sis!" Ema cried. "Stop trying to protect the Chief! I… I can't watch you suffer any more for my sake…"

"No, you didn't!" Lana shouted to Ema. "It wasn't you, Ema! You didn't kill anyone! Don't believe anything Mr. Wright says! Defense attorneys make up the most foul lies to defend their clients!"

"'Foul lies'…?" Wright repeated, hunched over in a cold sweat.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I guess you do seem the type who likes to twist the truth."

Wright suddenly regained his composure. Something appeared to occur to him.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"Lana… may be right after all," Wright said.

"What do you mean, Wright?" Miles demanded.

"So you do tell foul lies then, Mr. Wright?" Ema asked, completely missing the point.

Wright hit his desk. "Ms. Skye!" he called. "Please testify once more!"

"But…" Lana started.

"If evidence was 'fabricated' behind your back… then Ema's accidental killing of Prosecutor Marshall… might also be a lie!"

"B-but," Ema stuttered, "I do remember knocking over Mr. Marshall…"

"Ms. Skye! If you will!"

"I… I can't…" Lana whimpered.

"There's nothing to be afraid of anymore," Miles reassured her. "This cross-examination may not change a thing." He struck his desk. "However, there is a possibility that it will, if you tell the truth!"

Lana was silent for a moment. "Very well," she finally said. "I'll testify… about what I really saw."

The judge banged his gavel. "All right," he said. "The witness may testify once more, for the final time!"

"When I arrived, I found Mr. Marshall's body impaled on that suit of armor's sword. Ema and Darke were lying unconscious on the floor nearby. When I saw what had happened, I thought she… did it. That's why I erased all the evidence that linked her to the murder. I had Chief Gant help me remove the body from the sword and carry it… But if it all really was a fabrication, Ema might be innocent!"

_Finally… Thank you, Lana._

"Unbelievable!" the judge exclaimed. "The body was impaled on the armor's sword?"

"You were the only one who saw that," Miles said, disappointed. "If only you had proof…"

"Actually," Lana said after a pause, "I do have proof."

_You do!?_

"I gave it to Mr. Wright just this morning," she continued.

"What?" Wright asked. "To me!?"

"It's a picture I took of the crime scene as I encountered it. I thought it might be needed."

"But I don't remember receiving a picture like that…"

"Lana must have known…" Ema said. "See, Mr. Wright? She really does have faith in you!"

The judge banged his gavel. "Very well, Mr. Wright," he said. "Please present this 'picture'!"

"Lana said she gave it to you this morning, right?"

"I seem to remember getting something from her then…" Wright recalled.

"Let's check that evidence again!" Ema said. "There must be a picture in there somewhere!"

Wright took out the book he had received and opened it. He flipped through the pages. When he reached the end, he saw something and took it out: a photograph.

_Ingenious…_

"Hey…" Wright said. "There's a picture here!"

"Oh…" Ema gasped. "Oh my… This is… the actual crime scene…!"

"No other detective saw the crime scene like this," Lana explained. "That's because I contacted Criminal Affairs only after I rearranged the scene."

Ema gasped after another look at the picture. "Mr. Wright! That piece cut out from his vest! Could that be… That cloth… It had fingerprints on it! Whosever fingerprints those are must be the real murderer!"

Wright suddenly began sweating.

Miles struck his desk. "Anyway," he said, "let's get on with the cross-examination. So long as you tell the truth, we should be able to flush out the real murderer."

"The judge banged his gavel. "Very well," he said. The defense may now begin its cross-examination."

"Hold it!" Gant's voice bellowed. Gant walked up to the stand. Lana stepped aside. "Come now, Udgey. This is the poorest excuse for a trial I've ever seen!"

_Come back to accept your fate, have you? And here I was thinking you didn't have a heart for my sword to pierce…_

"Chief Gant…" the judge said.

"What, now you want to make me out as the bad guy too? If so, I'd like to put in a word or two in my defense."

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "I'm afraid it's too late for that."

"What?"

"You already declined testimony. That means you forfeited your right to make statements of any sort."

Gant just stood there, as though the words had not sunk in.

"Just sit back, relax…" Miles continued, "and enjoy the sound of the noose tightening around your own neck."

"GGGCCKCKCCKKKK…!" Gant snarled. After a moment, he regained his composure. "Ah, so what? You think I'm worried?"

_So what else do you have up your sleeve, Gant?_

"Sorry to disappoint you," Gant continued, "but I don't need to make any statements."

"What do you mean?" Miles asked.

"The evidence will do all the talking for me. Even if I can't testify, I can still present evidence."

"Yes, that's true…" the judge agreed. "Wait! You mean… you still have some conclusive evidence?"

"No, I don't. But someone does."

"'Someone'…?"

"So then… what's your excuse Wrighto?"

_He's asking for evidence? Wright, I've lured you into enough traps to know one when I see it._

"Why have you been keeping quiet about it?" Gant asked. "You do have something to show us, right? Something that proves who knocked over Neil Marshall, causing his death. Conclusive evidence, that leaves no room for doubt!"

_It's definitely a trap. If he thought that evidence was a threat, he wouldn't ask for it._

"I-is this true, Mr. Wright!?" the judge asked.

Wright didn't respond. The judge banged his gavel.

"Mr. Wright!" he snapped. "If you have any more evidence, present it now! And if you try to conceal anything… you will be the one appearing before the Board of Inquiries!"

"Your Honor, I don't have any evidence I can present at this point in time," Wright said.

"What!?" Gant roared. "You lie!"

"Chief Gant?" the judge asked.

"You… you opened my safe! I know you took what was inside! The conclusive evidence!"

_Hah! We have you now, Gant. You just admitted to concealing evidence. From here, we just have to wait for you to bleed to death._

"I don't know what you're talking about," Wright taunted.

"Mr. Wright!" Ema snapped. "Why don't you show them? We found it together!"

"Oh, I see," Gant said. "It's because you know the truth, don't you? You know whose fingerprints are on it. That's why you won't present it!"

Miles struck his desk. "What are you talking about, Chief Gant!?"

"Can't you figure it out? Take a good look at this picture. See the victim's vest? Notice anything odd about the chest area?"

"It looks like part of it's been cut off for some reason," the judge said.

"You mean, you had this…? In your safe?"

"What!? That means you… the Chief of Police… concealing evidence! This is going to be the biggest scandal in the history of the Police Department!!"

The gallery was in an uproar.

"Impressive…" Gant sneered. "To be honest, I didn't think you had the gall, Wrighto. Well, I can't just let you pin me up as the murderer. I'll tell you what really happened."

"What!?" the judge barked. "You mean you admit to it!?"

"I was the first person to arrive at the crime scene that day. It then occurred to me that I could use the situation to control Lana."

"So you really were manipulating her!" Ema yelled.

"I knew Lana. If I made it look like the blame lay with her sister… that when she saw the scene, she would ask me for my aid."

"So you 'assisted' Ms. Skye!" Miles growled.

"I told her to arrange all the evidence. I had her plant the knife tip in the victim's body, and move the body across the room."

"And I ended up using that evidence to get Joe Darke convicted!"

"When we rearranged the crime scene, I hid two pieces of evidence. I did this before Lana arrived at the scene."

"Two pieces of evidence…" Wright said. "You mean those items in your safe!"

"But... why?" the judge asked.

"For insurance, of course," Gant answered.

"'Insurance'…?" Wright repeated.

"I was sure my plan would work, but it's always best to be prepared for the worst. I wasn't about to let anyone blame me for a murder that girl committed."

"You mean you were calculating that far ahead while forging the evidence!?" the judge snapped.

"Who do you take me for, a fool? I didn't make police chief by dumb luck. See this jar fragment?" He pointed to the part of the jar that Lana had not wiped off. "I hid the most legible part of Ema's name. I didn't expect Lana to go and wipe the blood off all the pieces."

"Objection!" Miles yelled, striking his desk. "But if you fabricated all the evidence… what's to say you didn't fabricate the message on this jar, too?"

"Ho ho ho… Some people just don't know when to quit, do they?"

_I believe that's my line._

"That's why I kept one more item for 'insurance," Gant continued.

"You mean that piece of cloth?" Miles asked.

"Come on, Wrighto," Gant taunted. "Cough it up, already. I know you have it."

Wright was silent.

"What are you waiting for, Mr. Wright?" Ema asked.

"So you admit to it then, Chief Gant? That you were hiding the cloth you cut off the victim's vest in your safe?"

"Yes, I admit it," Gant answered. "I didn't want to have to do that, being Chief and all, but it's a lot better than being portrayed as a murderer!"

The judge banged his gavel. "Well, Mr. Wright?" he asked. "What do you have to say for yourself? Just a moment ago, you said you didn't have any evidence you could present."

"Foolish move, Wrighto. You should have shown it then before it was too late."

_Its relevance hadn't been established at that point, Gant. But now it's relevant._

"Your Honor," Wright said, "I do have evidence to present now."

The judge banged his gavel. "All right then," he said, "let's see this 'conclusive' evidence! The evidence that shows who murdered Prosecutor Marshall!"

Wright banged on his desk. "Let me verify this once more. On the day of the crime, you personally cut out this piece of the victim's vest?" He held up a strip of cloth with a handprint on it.

"Oh, yes!" Gant replied, clapping. "At last you've finally brought it out into the open."

"There's a handprint on this piece of cloth!" the judge commented.

Miles hit his desk. "Your Honor!" he called. "The prosecution requests that be immediately sent to the lab for analysis! This handprint on the leather… There must have been a strong impact for it to be left so clearly!"

"You mean…"

"It could not have been forged. It must be authentic, conclusive evidence!"

The gallery started yammering.

"Ho ho ho…" Gant chuckled. "You're as slow on the uptake as ever, Worthy!"

"What?" Miles spat.

"Think about it. Wrighto had all this time to present this evidence… Yet he was reluctant to do so. Why would that be?"

"You mean you already know?" Miles asked Wright. "You know whose fingerprints are on that?"

"M-Mr. Wright…" Ema exclaimed. "Do you really know?"

The judge banged his gavel. "Whoever the fingerprints belong to must be the real murderer!" he said. "Whose fingerprints are they!?"

"Very well," Wright said. "I'll tell you. The person whom these fingerprints belong to is… Ema Skye."

"Ema? Ema Skye!?"

_What!?_

"What!?" Ema yelped. "They're mine…!?"

"I'm sorry, Ema…" Wright said.

"But why… Why didn't you tell me!?"

The gallery was in an uproar. The judge banged his gavel repeatedly.

"Oh ho ho ho!" Gant guffawed. "You're really something, Wrighto! You knew this girl did it all along, and you still tried to pin the murder on me!"

"So it's true," the judge admitted. "Tragic, but true. This girl really did shove Prosecutor Marshall to his death."

"Hold it!" Lana shouted. "How could you!? You… you monster!!"

"Ms. Skye…"

"You knew whose fingerprints those were all along, yet you… you acted like she really didn't…"

_Wright… I sorely overestimated you._

"Ms. Skye," Wright said. "It's not over yet…"

"What!?" Lana asked.

"I said this trial isn't over yet."

"Ha! But I'm afraid it is over, boy! Not only this trial… but your career too!"

_What do you mean by 'not over yet,' Wright?_

"You purposely concealed this conclusive evidence," Gant continued. "That, my friend, is a serious offense. I'm looking forward to pressing charges after the defendant is convicted. I'll have your badge, boy!"

_Wait… If Wright was just fighting for a verdict, he wouldn't have ever shown that cloth. That means there's got to be something else._

"What's the matter," Gant taunted, "cat got your tongue? Aren't you going to tell us how it feels? How it feels to be the one who single-handedly turned a poor little girl into a murderer!?"

"Before I do that…" Wright said, "there's just one little thing I have to clear up."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Who really killed Prosecutor Neil Marshall."

"What!?" the judge barked.

"Chief Gant, you are absolutely right. This piece of cloth proves who the real murderer is. Who killed Neil Marshall, you ask?"

"It was Ema Skye, wasn't it?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

_How is it not possible?_

"You see," Wright continued, "this piece of cloth contains a critical contradiction!"

"What!?" Gant roared. "A contradiction!? What is this fool babbling about!?"

_That glare… He knows something, too…_

Wright hit his desk. "I'm talking about a contradiction," he said. "One that proves… who the real killer is!"

The gallery started murmuring. The judge banged his gavel.

"M-Mr. Wright!" he yelled. "This piece of cloth… What could it possibly contradict!?"

"Behold!" Wright shouted. "The piece of evidence that contradicts this cloth!" Wright held up Lana's photograph. "Take that!"

"And what exactly is this supposed to be…?" Gant growled.

"This is the picture Ms. Skye took. Take a good look at it. See where the piece of his vest was cut out?"

"Yes…" the judge said. "His shirt is showing underneath. It's hard to make out with all the blood on his vest, though."

_That's it! That means that cloth was cut out before Marshall… But that means… GANT!_

"Exactly my point," Wright stated. "His chest is soaked with blood. That's only natural. His lungs no doubt were punctured. Blood poured out of his mouth."

"Oh!" the judge exclaimed, apparently catching on. "But that piece of cloth… Wait… There's no blood on it!"

"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!" Gant screamed.

"Since Ema Skye's fingerprints are on this cloth," Wright said, "there's no doubt that she shoved the prosecutor aside!" He pounded on his desk. "However! Mr. Marshall was not impaled on the sword!"

"No! Th-this is nonsense!"

"Now then, Chief Gant. Let me ask you something. Prosecutor Marshall was not impaled when he was shoved aside."

"He most likely hit his head on the ground and was knocked out," Miles said.

"If so, then tell me. Who could it have been? Who could have arrived at the scene before Ms. Skye, picked up the unconscious prosecutor, and impaled him on the armor's sword?"

"Hnnngngghgghh…" Gant growled.

"Then," Miles added, "to make it look like Ema was responsible for the prosecutor's death, said person proceeded to write her name on the jar with the victim's blood. Then he broke the jar on purpose, to leave behind a clue," He struck his desk. "and make Lana believe her sister did it!"

"Remember what you admitted only moments ago?" Wright asked. "That you personally cut out this bloodless piece of the victim's vest? Ironic, isn't it? Through the very act of creating 'insurance,' you proved that you were the actual murderer!"

"NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Gant howled.

_At last… Gant… Hell's too good for you._

"Objection!" Gant roared.

_What!?_

"Heh…" he chuckled. "Heh heh heh! Oh ho ho ho ho ho! That was close, Wrighto! You almost had me! Sorry, but you'll have to do better than that. I refute your allegations."

"What do you mean, you 'refute' his allegations?" the judge asked.

"You see, that piece of cloth… is illegal evidence!"

The gallery jeered at Gant. Clearly, everyone believed he was the killer. The judge banged his gavel.

"Order! Order!" he bellowed. "What nonsense is this!?"

"Illegal evidence cannot be used to convict a suspect!" Gant explained. "Remember, Udgey! Earlier, ol' Wrighto here concealed that piece of cloth!"

"Well, that's true… The defense did refuse to present evidence!"

"At that moment, that piece of cloth ceased to be 'legal evidence'!"

"But that's not fair…!" Ema cried.

"Hoo hoo hoo hooooo! Did you actually think you could best me in court? It looks like the last laugh's on you, son!"

_Your wound is still bleeding, Gant. We have yet to remove our blade._

The gallery's jeers, which had only temporarily been silenced earlier, reached troublesome levels again. The judge banged his gavel.

"I'm afraid Mr. Gant's claim is legally correct," he admitted. "Well, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"True…" Miles agreed. "Illegal evidence cannot be used to convict a person… assuming, of course, that the evidence is indeed illegal."

"Hmm? Well, Mr. Wright?"

_Hopefully, he caught the hint._

"Mr. Wright," the judge said again. "Do you admit to it? That you purposefully and illegally concealed this piece of cloth?"

"Certainly, I refused to present evidence at one point," Wright stated.

"Aha!" Gant laughed. "So the evidence is illegal!"

"Objection! No it isn't, Mr. Gant."

"Huh?"

"It's not that I 'didn't' present evidence then… it's that I 'couldn't.'"

"What do you mean, you 'couldn't'?" the judge asked.

Wright pounded on his desk. "There are certain procedures involved when presenting evidence!"

"No, Udgey!" Gant cried. "Don't listen to his lies! He's nothing but a coward! You can't let him!"

"Objection!" Miles roared. _"Nothing but a coward?" That's you, Gant. And you've slipped through your last loophole._ "There is only one issue left to be resolved in this trial: Is this evidence legal or not?"

The judge banged his gavel. "Very well," he said. "Let us settle this once and for all. Earlier you refused to present evidence. If you can prove your conduct was not in violation of the law, then do so now!"

Wright slammed his desk. "This is my proof, Your Honor," he answered. "'Evidence Law.'"

"What's this?" Gant growled.

"I've done my homework too, Chief. Indeed, Ema Skye's fingerprints were on this piece of cloth." He struck his desk. "However! At that point in time, this was merely a piece of cloth, nothing more."

"What?"

"You see, it's written right here in this book: The second rule of evidence law!"

_I think we'll twist the blade around in your wound before removing it._

"Rule 1: no evidence shall be shown without the approval of the Police Department!" Miles said.

"I found this piece of evidence myself… inside your safe," Wright said. "It goes without saying I did not have approval from the Police Department."

"Rule 2: unregistered evidence presented must be relevant to the cast in trial."

"And here is the crux of the matter. You see, at the time it was impossible for me to prove the relevance between the cloth and the SL-9 Incident."

"What!?" Gant exploded. "What kind of nonsense is this!? You want 'relevancy'? Just take one look at this picture and—"

"Objection!" Wright pounded on his desk. "Sorry, but can you recall… when was that picture presented?"

"That was shown only a few moments ago!" the judge recalled.

"No…" Gant moaned.

"He's right," Miles said. "At the beginning of today's trial, that piece of cloth was still meaningless."

"The person who gave it value as evidence…" Wright added, "was you, Damon Gant."

"You yourself confessed to a certain 'truth.'"

"NNNNOOOOO!!" Gant cried.

"It was then that you approved this cloth… as conclusive evidence." Miles struck his desk. "Yes! You, the Chief of Police, personally approved this cloth!"

"The only person who could have cut this from the victim's vest…" Wright said, "is the one who stood before Prosecutor Marshall in his final moments. In other words, the real murderer! And there's only one person who that could be…" Wright pounded on his desk, then pointed at Gant. "Damon Gant, the killer was you!"

"N…" Gant groaned. "N… Mmph." He then began clapping repeatedly and laughing like a maniac, his head thrown back and his mouth open wide. "I knew I should have gotten rid of him… That good-for-nothing scum! For two years he's been snooping around the department trying to get something on me! Crimes are being committed everyday, yet he insisted on hounding me!"

"Well, your crime wasn't exactly petty," Miles said.

"He wanted to reinvestigate the case. He recruited Angel Starr, then convinced Brusce Goodman…"

"Detective Goodman?" Wright asked.

"Yeah, that's right. Goodman turned him down, as he ought to. Still, Jake Marshall didn't know when to quit."

"He stole Goodman's ID card and tried to steal the evidence!" Miles recalled.

"Goodman came to me that day. He wanted to file a lost item report. I went with him to the evidence room. Then all of a sudden he had to speak out! 'What are you talking about, Goodman?' 'Can you please reopen the investigation, Chief? We can't transfer the evidence out. There are too many questions left unanswered!' He… told me to open up the evidence room and take it out. 'It's not too late. I'll hand this to Marshall!' Well, to be honest, I was a little panicked too. I had a bad feeling about it, but never knew it would come to this. That's when I saw it… that accursed knife. I couldn't just pull it out."

"You would only increase the amount of blood and you couldn't finish what you started."

"Even so, the blood was just pouring out. I didn't know who might stumble in, so I was wiping it up. I was worrying so much about the floor, I didn't realize my mistake."

"Detective Gumshoe's bloody handprint…" Wright said.

"I used to be known as the 'crime computer'… But everyone has to start somewhere I guess. I was too nervous. I had no business doing any of it."

"Then you put the body in my car?" Miles asked.

"I'm sorry! We couldn't think of any other way to move the body. We broke the trunk, but what's the big deal? You pull down a lot more than us detectives!"

"Grr…" _That car cost more than a year's salary!_

Wright struck his desk. "W-what does this have to do with anything? You're horrible! How could you get Ms. Skye involved in all of this!?"

"Well, she had as much to lose as I did if the truth came out."

_No, she just thought she did._

"So you took the evidence from Detective Goodman's locker?" Miles asked.

"I feel bad for having to do it," Gant said. "I couldn't sit around and pick and choose what to take."

"Well…" Wright recalled, "you left the jar fragment and gloves."

"Yeah… It looks like I was better off being an investigator of crimes than a committer. They all did their best to get in my way… I've got to hand it to them, they do their jobs well… much to my dismay."

"Fake evidence doesn't hold up very well upon close examination," Miles said. "You must have known that…"

"Tell me, Worthy. What are you doing in court?"

"Me?" _Trust me; I intend to take a long vacation._

"You despise criminals. I can feel it. You and me… we're the same."

_Do not compare yourself to me, Gant. I'm no criminal._

"One day you'll understand," Gant continued. "If you want to take them on alone… you'll figure out what's needed!"

_I'll find a way around it, Gant. I'm not a von Karma._

"Well," Gant said, "looks like it's time to say goodbye. Oh, Udgey."

"Wh-what?" the judge stuttered.

"Looks like we'll have to cancel that lunch date. Sorry old friend!"

The judge shook his head. When he stopped, his face was serious. "I'm sorry too, Damon Gant. I knew you as you used to be, long ago. You were once a fine investigator, and an example to others on the force. I'm sorry to learn that you are no longer that person."

"Those days are gone now, Udgey. Thanks for all the memories, though… Don't worry, you'll be fine! Now you have Wrighto here… and Worthy. With these two around, you can't go wrong… You see, if I listen carefully, I can hear it right now… The sound of a new beginning!"

Gant was led off by the bailiff. Lana resumed the stand.

"There are two things I want you to understand," Wright said.

"Yes?" Lana replied.

"First, your sister never hurt anyone. Second, Damon Gant betrayed you from the beginning. You see, Ms. Skye… you no longer have any reason to keep silent."

"You're right. When this trial is over, I'll tell everything. All that I've done these past two years… from the tine I had Gant help me forge evidence, up until today."

The judge banged his gavel. "So…" he said, "it seems all the questions raised in this trial have been answered."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Skye…" Wright said. "I couldn't get you out of all your trouble."

"My, my," she said. "What high standards you have… for a rookie."

_Sometimes, only a rookie is stupid enough to make the right choice. That's two favors I owe you, Wright._

"I can see why Mia thought so highly of you," Lana continued. "Who knows? A few years from now, you just might make it to the top." She smiled. It was different from the ones he had seen the past two years. Rather than just her mouth and eyes, her entire body shone with the radiance that Miles saw in no one but her.

_I've waited so long to see you smile like that… Svetlana… "Shining one…" Your smile does your name justice._

"I owe you my thanks, Mr. Wright," Lana said.

"Ms. Skye…" Wright managed to say.

"And to you too, Mr. Edgeworth."

Miles returned to reality. _Court's still in session. Save the jubilance for later._

"You've suffered every bit as much as I have over these past few days," Lana continued. "Believe me, I know how much of an ordeal it's been for you."

"Hmph!" Miles scoffed, trying to avoid getting flustered. "It was nothing."

"I was worried the pressure might break you. And yet… you rose above it all and guided Mr. Wright to victory. You've done well, Mr. Edgeworth."

"S-stop it! I only did my job!"

Miles thought he saw Lana roll her eyes in amusement.

The judge banged his gavel. "In light of this case…" he said, "it seems a good self-examining is in order for all of us. Ms. Skye."

"Yes, Your Honor?" Lana replied.

"You are innocent of murder. However… Although the Chief blackmailed you, the fact is you still acted as his accomplice. A trial will be scheduled for these crimes at a later date."

"Yes. I understand, Your Honor."

"Is there something amusing about all of this? Why are you smiling?"

"It's been a long time, Your Honor. A long time since I've felt free of these heavy chains…" With those words, Lana left the stand and resumed her place in the defendant's chair.

"Well, this trial has gone on far too long already," the judge said. "Regarding the charge of murder, this court finds the defendant, Ms. Lana Skye… not guilty."

The courtroom erupted into cheers. Silently, Miles cheered as well.

The judge banged his gavel. "That is all," he said. "The court is adjourned!"

* * *

Miles left the prosecutor's bench. Though he was pleased with the verdict, the trial itself had been Hell. On his own, he would have proven Lana guilty. The thought terrified him. He knew he was unfit to prosecute as things were. There was more to his job than he knew, and if he was ever going to stay in the world of law, he would need to learn just what that was.

_At the least, I should say goodbye to Lana…_

He saw Gumshoe walk into the Defendant Lobby with Lana.

_What to do… How am I going to handle this…?_

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything!" Miles heard Gumshoe say. Gumshoe then muttered something else. Wright said something in response. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Making a detective run all around while on duty, and to top it off you call me here… I've seen happier people at funerals!" The next part was relatively inaudible.

"Lana!" Miles heard Ema exclaim. The conversation continued.

_Damn it… Right when I need to say something, I can't think of anything to say… I suppose it makes sense… All this time that I fought crime, I walked a crooked path. And then Lana sat in the defendant's chair… and could have died because of my methods… I don't deserve her…_

"…Edgeworth?" Miles heard Lana ask. Wright said something. "Stop hiding and come over here."

Defeated, Miles walked in. _Think of something to say…_

"I just came to say…" Miles trailed off. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Lana said, smiling.

"Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth!" Ema exclaimed.

"Right," Miles said. "Well… I'll be going now!"

Miles turned around to leave. He felt a hand on his left shoulder.

"Mr. Edgeworth," Lana said from behind him. "I hope you don't blame yourself for what happened."

_Don't…_ Miles turned to face Lana.

"We were the ones who acted corruptly," she said, "not you."

_That changes nothing. I don't deserve to prosecute._ "It's too late for me," Miles said. "No matter what anyone may say, I realized today that I can't change my own mistakes!"

"Mr. Edgeworth…" Ema whimpered.

"Not only that, but I don't even trust myself anymore. Chief Gant was right… I do despise criminals. I planned to dedicate my entire life to fighting them. But in order to fight crime alone, one needs a 'weapon.' It's scary, but I've been thinking the same thing for quite some time now."

"But Edgeworth…" Wright said.

"Who knows? Given enough time, I might have tried to pull something like Chief Gant did. That thought terrifies me. That's why I can't continue on as a prosecutor!"

"Edgeworth…" Lana said, a hint of sorrow in her voice. "Don't you understand? Damon Gant and your mentor, Manfred von Karma… were both the best of the best when it came to fighting crime. But they both made the same mistake. You said, 'in order to fight crime alone, one needs a "weapon."' That may be right, but think back to today's trial. You weren't alone."

_L… Lana…_

"You were working together with Mr. Wright," Lana continued. "And because of that partnership, you were able to present evidence that otherwise would have gone undiscovered. Isn't that right, Mr. Wright?"

"Huh?" Wright yelped. "What? Oh, uh… yeah."

"Come on, Mr. Wright!" Ema exclaimed. "Show him what Lana's talking about!"

Wright grasped his chin in his right hand. He then apparently got an idea and took out his half of the SL-9 evidence list. "Take that!" he said.

"That's the picture I drew!" Ema commented.

"Our counterattack began with this. You had one half of the evidence list, and I had the other. Apart, we wouldn't have been able to completely restore Ema's picture."

"That didn't just happen by 'chance,' Edgeworth," Lana said.

_Yes… you're right… But what proof do I have that I'll always face someone like Wright? I need to find a way to fight crime alone and do so honorably._

"It's time for me to go," Miles said.

"Mr. Edgeworth…" Ema said, worried.

"If you'll excuse me… there are still some loose ends that need wrapping up. Take care, Chief Prosecutor." Miles turned around to leave.

"Edgeworth!" Wright called. Miles turned around again. "What will you do now?"

_I don't know yet, Wright._

"Well, whatever you do," Wright said, "just remember. What happened in this trial can either make or break you as a prosecutor. In the end, it's up to you."

"I know…" Miles replied. "It seems I owe you my thanks too, Wright. But what I face now… is my problem."

"Edgeworth… I'll be waiting for you in court."

_We'll see. _"Farewell."

Miles turned around and left. To his relief, no one called him back in.

* * *

That night, Miles returned to his office for the last time. He sat at his desk and picked up the phone and dialed the Gatewater Hotel's number. He looked at the bag of tea Lana had given him. That tea had been drunk a while ago, but he had kept the bag to remember the type.

"Gatewater Hotel front desk," a voice answered.

"Please transfer my call to room service," Miles said into the receiver.

"Ah, Mr. Edgeworth."

Miles waited as the room service telephone rang.

"Hello?" the bellboy's familiar voice said.

"Do you carry…" Miles paused to look at the bag. "Krasnodar tea?"

"Yes, sir. Which grade?"

"FTGFOP."

"One moment, sir. I'll check."

Miles waited, drumming his fingers on his desk.

"Yes, sir, we have it," the bellboy said. "I'll be over right away with some. It will be ten dollars."

"Thank you."

While waiting for the tea, Miles took a pen and sheet of paper and started writing, often pausing to think.

My beloved Lana,

I have chosen to leave the United States for a while. What you have said to me rings true, but I do not believe I should prosecute again until I know how to do the job right. I cannot be certain that Wright will be my opponent every time. I need to be ready to find the truth no matter who I am facing. It is with that in mind that I am leaving.

Know that this is not the end for either of us. I still love you, but I am unfit to be by your side until I am more sure of myself. You can consider yourself forgiven for the lies you have told me. Though your actions were criminal, your motives were understandable.

I will return one day, and when that day comes, the ring you returned to me will again decorate your finger.

With devoted love,

Miles

Miles took the letter and put it in an envelope. _You will be the one to know what I have done, Lana. But as for the rest of the world, they will receive a different message._ Miles prepared another sheet of paper.

The door opened. The bellboy from the Gatewater Hotel came in with the tea Miles had ordered. Miles paid him no mind.

"Uh, Mr. Edgeworth?" the bellboy called. "I brought you your tea…"

Miles took out his wallet and handed the bellboy twelve dollars. He then looked back to his paper. The words came to his mind.

"What's going on?"

Miles simply motioned for the bellboy to leave and wrote down a single sentence:

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death.

_The Miles Edgeworth of the past must die. The new Miles Edgeworth will be everything Lana deserves in a husband, and everything the world deserves in a prosecutor._

Part I—Конец


	27. Part II, Chapter 1: Looking Forward

**Part II—Great Revival**

**Chapter 1—Looking Forward**

March 28, 2017

A little under a month had passed since Lana's sentence. Due to mitigating circumstances, she was to serve a mere six months in prison. Since she was blackmailed, it was decided that her role was minimal, resulting in a smaller sentence. Shortly before formally being moved to prison, she contacted a friend, Alice Charleston, and asked her to look after Ema for the time being. Alice wasn't exactly Lana's idea of a good role model, considering her occasional shopping problems, but she knew Ema would be pleased with the choice. After all, Alice was a coroner, a job Ema was certain to be interested in, not to mention she lived in England, a place Ema had always wanted to visit.

Like Mia, Lana met Alice through college. In fact, her first boyfriend was Alice's brother: Tom Charleston, a good man, but one who had the misfortune of getting a false negative on an STI screening. Lana didn't hold a grudge over it, considering that it wasn't his fault, and she respected him for telling her the truth the instant he learned he had herpes. Fortunately for Lana, she did not contract the illness. They remained a couple for a few months afterwards, but they refrained from anything that posed the risk of infecting Lana. Ultimately, both agreed it was best that they break up. According to Alice, Tom was now happily married to someone who also had his disease.

"Thinking about 'him' again?" one of Lana's cellmates asked, referring to her silence.

"Not this time," Lana replied.

Lana's cellmates were all relatively decent people, though one of them did not think the same of her. The one who had spoken was Teresa Lowe, a college student who had been given six months and fined ten thousand dollars for distributing pirated music. She was to be released in another month. She was a bit of a gossip-lover, especially when it came to romance. Needless to say, she felt drawn to Lana because of her past relationships. In particular, she felt sorry for her because of Miles's "death," though Lana knew Miles had his reasons for wording his parting message in that way. Perhaps it was to get the media off his tail while he went off to find himself. Miles was a strong man, but the mere mention of his difficult past made him tremble on the inside.

"Well, how about you think about the people here in your cell and play a card?" another cellmate demanded of Lana. That was Angel Starr, still holding a grudge and serving two years for perjury against a government officer. Angel was more of a Devil whenever she spoke with Lana. Even so, she was willing to put their conflicts aside from time to time when the ladies felt like playing a friendly game of hearts. Besides, neither of them had anything to gain from getting into a fight.

Lana played the two of hearts.

"You're supposed to follow suit," Angel scolded.

"If I had a diamond, I would have played it," Lana replied. "If you want proof that I don't have any diamonds, I give you permission to record every card I play and call for this hand to be disqualified if I've been cheating."

Angel sighed and waited for the last cellmate to play her card. That last cellmate was Katie Peterson, a college dropout who was spending three-and-a-half years in prison for carjacking. She was extremely ambitious and wanted to become an actress. After her bout with the law, that ambition was unlikely to be fulfilled. Still, she was determined. From what Katie said about her intents, it seemed more as though she wanted to act so she would be famous, not because she enjoyed it.

Katie played a heart, too. Angel took the trick.

_So, only four hearts remain, and then there's the Queen. And Angel has every heart so far._

Angel led with the king of clubs. Teresa played the ace.

_Perfect._

Lana played the queen of spades.

"Again!?" Angel snapped. "That's it! Show me your hand!"

Lana turned her hand around. There wasn't a single club in it. Nothing but hearts and spades.

"Angel, it's just a game," Lana said calmly. Angel just appeared to get angrier.

"You're getting nothing but good hands! You've got to be cheating!"

Lana chuckled and stood up, spreading her arms out as if expecting a full body search. "If you claim I'm cheating…"

Angel gritted her teeth. _That's right, Angel. You need proof._

"Exactly," Lana answered to what Angel's was no doubt guessing in her thoughts. "Don't accuse me unless you have proof. By all means, do whatever you must to find proof. I'll submit myself to a search if you really think I cheated."

Angel, not willing to look the fool by going back on her argument, walked behind Lana and reached into the pockets of her jacket. Nothing.

"Take off your jacket," Angel ordered. Lana did so. She was wearing a simple white shirt underneath without a single pocket on it. Angel checked the inside pockets of Lana's jacket. She apparently felt something. "Aha!"

_Damn… I forgot I put Miles's letter in that pocket…_

Angel took out the letter and checked for cards. She then noticed the signature.

"You're kidding me…" she sighed.

"If you're satisfied, I'd like my jacket back," Lana said. "And the letter."

With an annoyed grunt, Angel returned the jacket and the letter. Lana promptly put her jacket back on and placed the letter back in her pocket.

"Why did you have a letter in your pocket?" Teresa asked.

"It's my evidence," Lana replied.

"Evidence of…?"

"It's my proof that Miles is still alive. The letter's from him."

Teresa gasped.

"I was hoping no one would find it. I think he had his reasons for letting people think he's dead."

"You know," Angel commented, "that's only proof that he was alive when he wrote the letter."

"He's alive," Lana said. "He's too proud to kill himself over what happened. Besides, he said in his letter that he was going to return. I believe him. One day, he'll return an even better man than he was when he first proposed to me." She paused. "Sorry I kept that from all of you. I'd prefer if this stayed a secret, though."

"Sure, sure," Angel said. "Not as if I want to add Edgeworth to my list."

Lana rolled her eyes. _Not as if Miles would ever allow himself to be added to your list in the first place…_

"So, shall we resume our game?" Lana asked, sitting back down. Katie played the five of clubs. Teresa took the trick.

"Did you hear about Manfred von Karma?" Katie asked after a pause.

_Almost everyone's heard; the man was a legend._

"He died recently from that flu strain that we all had about two weeks ago, right?" Lana confirmed.

"THAT'S what did him in!?"

"Children and the elderly are much more vulnerable to most forms of the flu. I guess von Karma's immune system just couldn't handle it. Besides, you all saw what horrible shape some of the other prisoners were in, not to mention diseases like the flu spread in densely-occupied areas such as a prison like a fire in a grassland."

"Wow… All I knew was that he was dead. I didn't know it was the flu that got him."

Teresa played the six of hearts. Lana followed suit with the five.

"Gant survived, though," Lana said. "In his shape, he'll probably live to be at least eighty."

"And I hope he's hurting all the way there," Angel said as Katie played the king of hearts.

"There's something I agree with you on."

"Hmph. He's not the only one."

_Say what you want, Angel. I doubt you'll ever understand my trip through Hell, considering your outlook on life._

"What I went through obeying Gant's orders is something you will have a lot of trouble ever mimicking. Think what you want of me; it won't change a thing. I still have a great life to look forward to. Even if I never get allowed back into law enforcement, I still have a wonderful life to look forward to. I'll always have to deal with the guilt of what I did, so don't think I'm getting off easy."

"Hah! 'The guilt of what I did!' I'm gonna be in here way longer than you, and I don't feel an ounce of guilt for lying on the stand!"

"That's because you believed what you did was right. I knew from the start that what I was doing was horrible. Even if it meant protecting Ema from that monster, I still regretted all those lies I told. I regretted it back then, and I do now." Lana paused. Angel played the ten of hearts. Katie took the trick. "But let's not dwell on this topic. I'd rather look forward to the future than regret the past, and I'm sure Miles thinks the same thing. It's one reason why he left—to make a better future for himself."

Katie snatched a look at the score card and put down her new score. Angel then took the card and wrote down her score, followed by Teresa. Lana wrote down her score and compared the results.

"Well, Angel broke one hundred in that last hand, so the game's over," Lana said. "Looks like I won for once."

"I _would_ have won if you hadn't given me the Royal Pain," Teresa commented.

"Which is exactly why I sent her your way. I believe this is the… second time I've actually won?"

"That sounds right," Katie said. "Still the worst out of all of us."

"It's only a game. Still, it's nice to win for a change."

Angel got up and walked over to her bunk, lying down with no intent to go to sleep.

"So, Lana…" Teresa started, "what are you gonna do if they don't let you prosecute?"

"That's a good question. Maybe I'll become a judge."

"A judge?"

_If they let people like Noah Clous judge cases, I'm sure I'm qualified for the job._ "Judges have no role in handling evidence, so any suspicion that I'd tamper with evidence would be meaningless."

Teresa chuckled. "A prosecutor and a judge. How fitting."

"If I am going to become a judge, I probably won't be allowed to oversee cases that Miles will prosecute."

"Assuming you're still going to be together after what you did," Angel cut in.

Lana rolled her eyes. "Obviously, you only read the signature at the bottom of the letter," she replied. "I'm sure he'll make the right choice. When he sees things clearly, he always does."

"Hah."

"The fact that I was acquitted proves that he's not the same man he was when he first proposed. He's a much better person now, and I believe in him."

"Where's your proof?"

"The letter is my proof." Lana took out the letter.

"'Know that this is not the end for either of us,'" she read. "'I still love you, but I am unfit to be by your side until I am more sure of myself. You can consider yourself forgiven for the lies you have told me. Though your actions were criminal, your motives were understandable.

"'I will return one day, and when that day comes, the ring you returned to me will again decorate your finger.'

"I'd say that's sufficient proof," Lana said, putting the letter back in her jacket pocket. "And if that's not decisive enough, I'll visit you in prison someday once we're married and show you the ring. The future holds nothing but happiness for me—it's a fact."


	28. Part II, Chapter 2: Family

**Chapter 2—Family**

May 3, 2017

"All rise for the Honorable Mrs. Justice Denning, Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire," the clerk called out as the judge entered the courtroom. It was the first time Miles had stood in court since Lana's case. The layout was slightly different, but like the American court system, the British system had also undergone some changes in the past decade. To start, the prosecution and defense benches sat side by side, facing the judge. The judge was a woman looking to be in her fifties. Rather than the usual black robe the San Diego judges wore, this judge wore a red robe and tippet and a black scarf. She was also wearing a short bench wig.

The defense team consisted of a grey-haired man looking to be around the judge's age and wearing a pure black suit. He was advising the actual defense attorney, a man around Wright's age with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing a bright blue suit and glasses.

"You may be seated," the judge said as she took her seat. "Court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Michael Monroe."

"The prosecution is ready, My Lady," Miles said, standing.

"The defense is ready, My Lady," the defense attorney said, also standing.

"I understand you are both new to the court system," the judge commented. "I am Dame Martha Denning."

"Miles Edgeworth, My Lady," Miles said. "Until recently, I was a prosecutor in the United States."

"Kristoph Gavin, My Lady," the defense said. "I've been in training for a while and have chosen this to be my first case."

"I see," the judge said. "Mr. Edgeworth, your opening statement?"

"Of course," Miles said. "No two emotions are stronger than love and anger. When the two are brought together in a single person, the results are often deadly. Such was the fate of our victim, Mrs. Jessica Monroe. Her husband, overwhelmed by the shock of seeing the woman he loved in the arms of another man, reportedly struck her with his cane, killing her. Whether or not it was with murder in mind that he did so… shall be determined today in court."

"I see. What plea does the defense wish to enter?"

"The defense pleads not guilty," Gavin said.

"Very well. Mr. Edgeworth, you may call your first witness."

"The prosecution calls the detective in charge of the investigation, Detective Otis White, to the stand." The detective took the stand. "Detective, before the trial can begin in earnest, we must understand the basic facts of the case."

"Understood, sir," the detective said. "After receiving a call from a witness, the police arrived at the scene of the crime and found the victim dead. The suspect, her husband, was in their room. He didn't put up any fight when we arrested him. The cause of death is not known with 100 certainty, but the Department believes the victim died when her neck was broken by a blow from her husband's cane. Coupled with the witness's statements, we are convinced that the victim was killed by her husband."

The detective stopped speaking.

"Detective?" the judge called.

"Yes, My Lady?" he replied.

"Why did you stop?"

"Because we only need the facts and the Department's conclusion," Miles said. "Questions about motive will be answered as the trial progresses."

"I… see… Very well, Mr. Gavin, you may cross-examine the detective."

"Yes, My Lady," Gavin said. "Detective, you said the suspect didn't put up a fight. Why was that?"

"We can't say for certain, but he was probably in shock."

"In shock?"

"Well, he had just killed his wife, and considering the circumstances, it probably wasn't premeditated."

"Do you have any proof that he was in shock?"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "Mr. Gavin, the reason why the defendant was there is only important if you can come up with some other reason and substantiate your claim with proof. So, let me ask you: why was he in his room, if not because he was in shock?"

"Hm… perhaps someone threatened him?"

"'Perhaps?' Do you have any proof of this?"

Gavin was silent, trying to think. "No, I don't," he said after a moment.

"I didn't think so. Detective, please continue."

"The cause of death is not known with 100 certainty, but the Department believes the victim died when her neck was broken by a blow from her husband's cane."

"Hold it!" Gavin cut in. "A cane? And has the defendant sustained any sort of injury as a result?"

"Huh?"

"If he lifted his cane and stood only on his two legs, did he hurt himself?"

"No. The cane's mostly for show. It's been found that the defendant is perfectly capable of standing and fighting without the support of a cane."

Gavin placed his right hand on the bridge of his glasses, a tad annoyed at having hit a dead end.

"Anyway," the detective continued, "coupled with the witness's statements, we are convinced that the victim was killed by her husband."

"Any further questions for this witness, Mr. Gavin?" Miles asked.

"No," Gavin replied.

"Good. Detective, you may step down. The prosecution now calls the man who witnessed the crime, Mr. Daniel Watson, to the stand."

A man around the defendant's age took the stand.

"Witness, please state your name and occupation," Miles requested.

"Daniel Watson," the witness replied, "waiter at Greenie's Pub."

"Good. You witnessed the crime, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Please testify about what happened, then," the judge said.

"All right. Jessie and I had returned from an outing and wanted to enjoy a few good moments before her husband got home. We started making out, but we got carried away and lost track of the time. We heard Mike open the door and tried to avoid looking suspicious, but he didn't buy it. After a brief debate, me and Jessie trying to convince Mike we weren't doing anything he didn't want, he started swinging his cane around. He managed to hit Jessie in the neck. She fell down and didn't get up. He also started beating me. I ran out and called the police."

Miles took out the autopsy report. "My Lady, the witness's statements follow what the autopsy report said. Some of his saliva was found in the victim's mouth. In addition, death was from a broken neck. Sadly, we have no decisive proof that the cane was what killed her."

"The court accepts the report into evidence," the judge said. "Mr. Gavin, your cross-examination."

"So, would you say the motive came from your luring the victim away from her husband?" Gavin asked.

"Yes," Watson responded.

"So, essentially, this murder happened because you came in—"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "Mr. Gavin, if you think you can transfer guilt through the witness's role in an affair, then I suggest you transfer yourself to a different occupation. Responsibility for the motive does not make the witness a killer. By your logic, one could also argue that it was a suicide."

"Objection sustained," the judge said. "Mr. Gavin, you will refrain from slandering the witness."

"Yes, My Lady," Gavin said. He looked back at the witness. "Do you know what tipped off my client?"

"I don't know," Watson said. "Perhaps our faces were a little red? I really have no idea. We were making out pretty passionately, so I'm sure something about our appearance tipped him off."

"I see… You claim my client also beat you?"

"Yes. He managed to hit me a few times on my back as I fled."

"Weren't you worried about Mrs. Monroe?"

"Of course I was. But… I was also worried about myself. As far as I could tell, she had been knocked out by that cane. I wasn't about to let myself get knocked out, too."

"And you think my client did this because of the affair?"

"Yes."

"Somehow, I find it odd that my client would start lashing out after seeing his wife cheating on him. Are you sure he attacked you because of the affair?"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "My Lady, this is unnecessary badgering of the witness! The defense has shown no evidence to support their reasoning!"

"Objection sustained," the judge said. "Mr. Gavin, please refrain from badgering the witness."

"Sorry, My Lady," Gavin said. "Hm… So, you say my client started swinging his cane around?"

"Yes," Watson said.

"Did he hit anything besides you and the victim?"

"Yes. He hit one of the speakers on the computer in the room."

"I see."

"Well?" Miles asked. "Is that important?"

"Yes. You see, what if the speaker was sent flying by the cane, and that's what killed the victim?"

"That would only work if you were pleading manslaughter. In addition, the speaker was not the right shape to produce the wound found on the victim."

"Hmm…"

"I think that's enough," the judge said. "It's clear that there are no contradictions in what this witness has said. Mr. Gavin, any final statements or evidence?"

"Gavin," Gavin's associate said. "There are still areas that need examining."

"My Lady, I would like to continue the cross-examination," Gavin said.

"Overruled," the judge replied. "There are no contradictions. Further questioning would simply be a waste of this court's time."

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "There is still room for doubt, My Lady."

"What do you mean?"

"Mr. Gavin, if you are done with this witness, I would like to call the next witness."

"The next witness?" Gavin asked.

"The defendant," Miles replied, "assuming you are all right with that."

"Hmm…"

"Well, Mr. Gavin?" the judge asked.

"The defense agrees to the proposal. My client will take the stand."

"Very well." The judge banged her gavel. "This concludes the cross-examination of Mr. Daniel Watson."

Watson stepped down from the stand as the bailiff escorted Monroe to the stand.

"Please state your name and occupation for the court," Miles requested.

"Michael Monroe," the defendant replied, "but everyone calls me Mike. As for my occupation, I'm a desk clerk."

"Mr. Edgeworth, what do you want the defendant to testify about?" the judge asked.

"Mr. Monroe," Miles said, "I would like you to testify about the crime that Mr. Watson claims to have witnessed."

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Mr. Monroe, begin your testimony," the judge said.

Monroe sighed and closed his eyes. He seemed to jerk a little. "I… I'm guilty," he said. "When I saw Jessica with Daniel, I instantly suspected something. When they lied to me, I… I lost my mind. I was so furious that I just swung my cane around at both of them. But… you have to believe me… I'd never kill Jessica on purpose… Yes, I was angry with her, but I still loved her… I hit her in the neck, and she died. I thought she had only fainted, but as more time passed, I started to think she was dead… I couldn't just leave like that… I thought maybe she was still alive… I… I just feel so horrible… Do what you want with me; I killed her… my wife… the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with…"

The gallery, which had began murmuring the instant Monroe said he was guilty, was now quite noisy. The judge banged her gavel.

"Order!" she shouted. "Mr. Monroe, is this a confession?"

"Yes, My Lady," he replied.

"My Lady!" Gavin called. "The defense would like to change its plea!"

"To what?" the judge asked.

"The defense pleads 'voluntary manslaughter.' We believe that though Mr. Monroe may indeed have killed his wife, he did not do it out of any criminal malice towards her."

"I see. Let the records show that the defense has changed its plea to voluntary manslaughter. You may begin your cross-examination, Mr. Gavin."

"So, what made you 'suspect something?'" Gavin asked the defendant.

"Whenever Daniel's over, I'm told about it beforehand," Monroe replied. "That was my first hint."

"I see. Isn't it possible that there was nothing suspicious going on, then?"

"That's what I had considered, so I confronted them. Their faces were both red, not to mention Daniel's hair was a mess, as was Jessica's. Not to mention… Jessica's blouse was a little sweaty, and part of it was unbuttoned. Their lies were also easy to see through…"

"And that caused you to lose your mind?"

"In a sense, yes. I really think I had been driven mad by what I saw. We've argued in the past, but the thought of hurting Jessica never even grazed my mind. I'd never hurt her…"

_Everything he says makes sense. If he really did love her that much, I doubt he'd hurt her, let alone with a cane. I know that I'd never hurt Lana—even if I were to learn she cheated on me._

"So," Miles commented, "it appears the issue at hand is now this: did the defendant kill his wife intentionally, or was it in the heat of passion?"

"I'd never hurt her…" Monroe whimpered. "She meant the world to me…"

"My Lady, the prosecution would like to summon a witness who can establish with almost complete certainty whether this crime was murder or manslaughter."

"I see," the judge said. "This court will take a fifteen minute recess. After the recess, we will hear from the prosecution's witness. Court is adjourned for recess!" She banged her gavel.

* * *

Miles entered the Prosecution Lobby and saw Ema sitting in one of the chairs with the coroner.

"Ema?" he called. "How did you end up here?"

Ema looked up from the book she was reading and jumped out of her seat when she saw Miles. She ran up and hugged him tightly.

"It really is you!" she cried. "I was so worried!"

Miles couldn't think of anything to say. He decided instead to simply give Ema a small familial hug. It then occurred to him what to say.

"Sorry I made you worry. I had no idea you would be here in England."

"What about Lana?"

"What about her?"

"She told me you still loved her."

"I do." Miles reached into his coat pocket and took out the ring. Ema gasped in excitement. "When I feel I'm on the right path again, I intend to marry your sister. I believe that she and I will be very happy together. She's always there when I need her, and I'm there when she need me."

"You're really going to ask her!? That's wonderful! I'm sure she'll say yes!"

"I'm sure she will, too. One thing these past two years taught me is that Lana and I are deeply devoted to each other. This is much more than a fleeting romance; our love will last."

"Congratulations, then," a voice said from the door. Miles turned his head in the direction of the voice and saw Gavin standing there. "Do you mind if I have a word with you?"

"Be my guest," Miles said.

"Thank you." Gavin walked closer to Miles. "You knew all along that it was voluntary manslaughter, didn't you?"

"I suspected," Miles said. "There was no decisive proof, so I believed the only way to find out was to hear from the defendant himself. …I suppose I can sympathize with him. From the sound of his testimony, it seems as though he really didn't harbor any intent to kill."

"Agreed."

"All that remains is to establish whether or not he was telling the truth."

"Someone who spoke that passionately cannot possibly be lying."

"Mr. Gavin, I've met people who can tell very clever lies and mask them behind strong emotions or an innocent face. It is by all means possible to feign such emotions. However, as luck would have it, there is a witness who can easily establish the truth."

"Who?"

"The defendant's psychiatrist. I believe he can be considered a credible source as far as the defendant's motive goes." He paused. "In all honesty, I think it unlikely that this was truly a murder. All that remains is to prove it."

* * *

The judge banged her gavel to call court back into session.

"Court is in session," she said. "Mr. Edgeworth, please call the next witness."

"The prosecution calls to the stand someone who we believe can establish whether or not the defendant killed his wife out of criminal malice," Miles said. "Dr. Peter Kohler, please assume the stand."

An elderly man looking well into his seventies took the stand.

"Witness, please state your name and occupation."

"Peter Kohler, psychiatrist," the witness replied.

"Very well," the judge said. "Dr. Kohler, please testify to the court as to whether or not you believe the defendant held any criminal malice toward the victim and why."

"There's no question that Mr. Monroe loved his wife dearly. I was actually invited to their wedding three years ago; their marriage was a very happy one, so I'm shocked that Mrs. Monroe saw fit to cheat on her husband. However, I know Mr. Monroe would never wish any harm upon his wife. They argued a few times, but they always worked things out, and things never got even close to becoming violent. I have no doubt in my mind that Mr. Monroe flew into a rage; he would never in the right mind do anything to hurt his wife—this I can say with complete certainty."

"Hm… I see. Mr. Gavin, your cross-examination."

"Dr. Kohler," Gavin started, "you said their marriage was a happy one. What do you mean by that?"

"They were very devoted to each other," Kohler said, "and they always managed to work out their differences without hurting their marriage."

"So why did the affair start?"

"My guess is that Mrs. Monroe simply fell in love with a second man. She still loved her husband, too, as far as I could tell from what Mr. Monroe has told me."

"I see."

The judge banged her gavel. "This case is becoming very clear to me," she stated, "and I feel ready to render a verdict. Mr. Edgeworth, what are your thoughts?"

"I believe that the defendant by all means regrets what he did. Murder or manslaughter, the knowledge that he is responsible for his wife's death is punishment enough. However, the law is still the law, and it is my hope that he will learn to move on during his time in prison."

"I see. Mr. Gavin?"

"I agree with Mr. Edgeworth completely, My Lady. No psychological torture is more severe than that which my client is undergoing right now—a mock execution would feel like a sample of Heaven to him. Also, the evidence and testimony presented in court make it clear that he had no intent to kill his beloved wife. Therefore, I believe a verdict of voluntary manslaughter is in order."

"Hmm… Very well. It appears we have reached a consensus. This court finds the defendant, Mr. Michael Monroe, guilty of voluntary manslaughter. I hereby sentence Mr. Monroe to five years in prison under either Category C or D, as is to be designated upon his entrance into prison. Court is adjourned." She banged her gavel.

* * *

Ema was waiting in the Prosecution Lobby, as was the coroner.

"How'd the trial go?" she asked upon seeing Miles.

"It was voluntary manslaughter," Miles replied. "Upon realizing his wife was cheating on him, the defendant flew into a rage and struck her with his cane, accidentally killing her. He wasn't of sound mind when the crime was committed. I hope they give him access to a psychologist during his time in prison; he's no doubt facing a terrible amount of psychological torture right now."

"Oh…"

"The only thing worse than the death of a loved one is the knowledge that you're responsible. I know what it's like—it's a sample of Hell."

"Mr. Edgeworth…"

"Family and friends really are important; they can help you through these kinds of disasters." He paused. "I suppose I have the von Karmas to thank for that, at the least. And then there's you and Lana—and even Gumshoe and Wright. All of you lent me a sympathetic ear—especially Lana. I don't want to think about where I'd be were it not for everyone who's been there for me when I needed them."

"You've really changed. You just feel a lot… Um…"

"Kinder?"

Ema didn't feel like answering that.

"You don't need to worry about offending me with that statement," Miles continued. "The Demon Prosecutor is dead. There is only one direction for me to go, and that's forward. This trial is proof of that."

Ema pulled her glasses over her eyes and smiled. "Well, I'm behind you 100, Mr. Edgeworth! And I'm sure Lana is, too!"

Miles felt himself smiling. Ema had a way of cheering people up simply by being cheerful herself. "One more thing. Why are you here in England?"

"Lana asked one of her friends to keep me healthy while she was in prison."

"A friend?"

"Alice Charleston."

"The coroner?"

"Yeah! I never realized how much detail was involved in forensic science!"

"So examining victims doesn't unnerve you?"

"Um… Well… actually…" She trailed off and sort of hung her head.

"That's understandable. Crime is rarely clean. Even then, victims of clean murders rarely look clean after the autopsy."

"I'm thinking I might take on a different part of forensics."

"A wise choice. I'm sure there will be some portions of the field that you will enjoy. After all, I imagine you had some fun working with Wright."

"Of course! I loved it!"

"You might actually make a good detective, too. You have an eye for details."

"Well… Yeah, but I'd rather deal with forensics."

"Well, if you have enough ambition and enough skill, I'm sure you'll do well. To be successful, you need three things: ambition, talent, and the right opportunity. At the least, you're very ambitious. Train properly and I can guarantee you'll become a forensic scientist."

Ema smiled eagerly, which in turn made Miles smile. It was easy to see why Lana loved her sister so much. Ema was going to be a welcome member of the family; Miles could tell.


	29. Part II, Chapter 3: Moving On

**Chapter 3—Moving On**

July 25, 2017

Lana had heard that she had a visitor that day, but it certainly wasn't who she had expected. Rather than Ema, Lana's visitor was a young woman in a short old-style dress that did a good job of showing off her legs, both of which had a boot on the foot with an intimidating high heel. More prominent than the dress and boots, though, was the whip she held in her left hand.

"You must be Franziska," Lana said through the speaker.

"Franziska von Karma, prosecuting prodigy," the visitor replied. She had a very faint German accent, but Lana would probably not have noticed it had she not heard about it from Miles. "I have to admit, I never thought I'd meet my little brother's lover in prison." She smiled in a somewhat arrogant manner. Miles sometimes smiled like that when taunting a defense attorney.

"The worst of it's over."

"Surely you've heard about Miles Edgeworth's death."

"I don't believe it; Miles is too proud to kill himself—especially after all that happened between us. He has nowhere to go but forward."

Franziska chuckled. "Forward? He has shamed himself with three defeats—all against the same person. What could possibly be left for him?"

"Me. No matter what path he follows, I'll be there for him. He knows that."

Franziska chuckled again. "The foolishness of a fool is foolish to all but other equally foolish fools."

Lana could not help but smile in amusement at Fransziska's words. Never before had she heard the word "fool" used so much in a single sentence. She laughed. "Perhaps Miles and I are fools," she said, "but that what makes us go together so well. He'll return—I'm sure of it. He wouldn't leave his life behind when he has so much to live for."

"If love is all that's left for him, then it appears I have already surpassed him. Such a pitiful man."

"And yet you still care about him."

Franziska glared at Lana. Were Lana not used to the intensity with which Miles glared, she would have probably felt a shiver go down her neck. Lana simply smiled.

"Miles told me about you," Lana said. "When I hear you talking about Miles, it's almost the complete opposite of what he says about you—with a few exceptions. In general, he talked about you in a positive light. He says you're like a sister to him, and he always felt as though you looked up to him and respected him. Despite your view of him as a competitor, he says he thinks of you as a sister more than a rival. He also says that you think of him as a brother, although you don't express it that easily."

"Hmph. He's nothing more than a rival to me."

"Liar. He told me about when he first left for the United States. He said he saw tears in your eyes as he said his good-byes." She smiled. "It appears you have more in common than just your job."

"And what do you mean by that, Ms. Svetlana Skye?" Lana could tell from Franziska's tone that she was beginning to get annoyed.

"You both have the same weakness: you both seem to think you're able to do well without anyone to support you. It took me a long time to get that nonsense out of Miles's head. No one's invincible."

It occurred to Lana that Franziska's whip had not seen any use. She was most likely worried that she might break the security glass and hurt herself.

"Give it some thought, Franziska," Lana continued. "Family is an important part of life. Whether you outwardly express it or not, Miles and I both know that you care about him."

"Hah. I am a von Karma, someone destined only for perfection. Why should I care about someone so imperfect?"

Lana smiled, amused.

"And just what is so funny?"

"The way you're reacting," Lana answered. "Tell me, Franziska: have you ever been in love?"

"Excuse me?"

"You've been so focused on victory—and revenge against a man who is above the need to be perfect—that you've lost sight of the much closer, more important parts of life. Miles has had me there to calm his fears and point him in the right direction when he feels lost. You're not accepting anyone like that."

"I don't need anyone's help; I'm stronger than Miles Edgeworth is. That's why I'm here: to prove it to him."

Lana again smiled. "I don't doubt that you're a strong woman. But the mere fact that you exist is proof that even a von Karma needs someone close."

"I'll save family for after I've defeated _him_."

Lana chuckled. "Then you'd better hope he gets a guilty client in the next case you prosecute against him. As you have learned, Mr. Wright will not allow innocent people to get convicted. If his client's innocent, he'll prove it." She closed her eyes. "But then again, Miles no longer cares about getting a perfect record. As long as you only have your sights set on your idea of perfection, you will never surpass Miles as a prosecutor."

Franziska was clearly angered by Lana's statement. "Were it not for this glass, Ms. Svetlana Skye, you would have a grievous gash across your face right now."

Lana sighed. "I'm sure you know Miles is more than just a rival. I owe my life and my happiness to him. Have you read about that case? The one in which I was blackmailed into feigning guilt for a murder? I tried to be found guilty. Miles—the prosecutor himself—stopped me. He fought for the truth on the last day of the trial. The Miles Edgeworth you viewed as a rival chose death. In his place is a far better man—someone who more than deserves to be by my side."

Franziska didn't appear to have anything to say in response. Lana had no doubt hurt her.

"Sorry if I hurt your feelings," Lana said. At that moment, Gumshoe had the misfortune of entering the visiting room. "Don't even think about it," Lana said, realizing that Franziska was going to take out her anger on the poor detective. "He has nothing to do with this." Franziska hesitated. "Franziska… Miles and I are going to be married one day—I'm sure of it. I hope to see you at the wedding."

"Hmph," Franziska spat. She smiled conceitedly. "I'll think about it. До свидания, Светлана Юревна."

"Before you go, could you please call Detective Gumshoe over here? I'd like to talk to him."

Mere moments after the words left her mouth, Lana realized she should have worded her request more carefully. It was too late by then, though. The whip's crack and Gumshoe's scream left an unpleasant ringing and an even more unpleasant silence in the air.

"Scruffy," Franziska called flatly. "Ms. Svetlana Skye would like to talk to you." Franziska got up from her seat and walked out of the room. Gumshoe hobbled over—the whip had struck him in the thigh—and slumped into the chair.

"Sorry about that," Lana said. "I realized right after asking to speak to you that Franziska would call you over with her whip."

"It's okay, pal," Gumshoe replied, still clearly in pain. "How're you holding up with everything?"

"I'm doing just fine, detective. Have you heard anything from Miles?"

"Yeah… He said he's started to prosecute in England."

"Where in England?"

"London. He said he ran into Ema over there."

"Really? That's great. I'm sure Ema was happy to see him again. It'll also make it easier for me to start dating him again."

Gumshoe blushed slightly, the way he usually did when he had some sort of secret.

"Is there something you're holding back?" Lana asked, knowing the answer.

"Um… S-sorry, pal, I promised Mr. Edgeworth I wouldn't tell. But he said he sent a letter to you."

"I see. I won't press the matter, then."

For a brief moment, neither of them said anything.

"Franziska's not causing any serious trouble, is she?" Lana finally asked. "Just from what Miles has told me, I can tell she's probably caused a few injuries."

"No, nothing serious, pal. Well… Okay, a few people got some cuts or muscle injuries, but nothing really bad."

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

"That blow to your thigh a moment ago didn't look too small. Are you going to be okay?"

"Sure. I've gotten kinda used to it. …It's no secret I'm not the best detective around…"

"Your heart's in the right place, though. I'm sure I'm not the only one who realizes that."

"Thanks… You know, it's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back, Gumshoe. I hated having to keep all that emotion sealed away."

"I can imagine. …Say, um… I wanted to know if you had any advice…"

"About…?"

"Well… uh…" Gumshoe rubbed the back of his head. "See, there's someone on the force that, uh… I… kinda have… a… crush… on. I was wondering what would make a good gift…"

Lana smiled. There was no decisive proof, but almost everyone who knew about Gumshoe agreed on who this mystery crush was. "It would probably be best to try to become friends with her before buying any gifts. You never know what she might like or dislike."

"Uh… but… what if she thinks I'm… uh…"

"Don't worry about it. You're a good person, and if you're referring to who I think you are, then trying to make friends wouldn't seem out of the ordinary."

"Wait… Who do you think I'm talking about?"

"I forget her name, but I'll describe her to you. She's almost exactly five feet tall, has short brown hair, wears glasses, and is a recruit who works under you."

"Maggey… Yeah… That's her…"

"Well, try to become friends with her. You're a nice guy, and there's nothing strange about trying to be on good terms with your subordinates. I'm sure you won't bother her. I'll be cheering on your efforts, and I'm sure Miles will, too."

Gumshoe looked touched. "Thanks, Ms. Skye. I'll be cheering you and Mr. Edgeworth on, too."


	30. Part II, Chapter 4: Reunited

**Chapter 4—Reunited**

September 7, 2017

Miles was often looking up from his newspaper to the exit from the baggage reclaim, only to see that Lana hadn't arrived yet. Ema had invited Miles along to greet Lana when she arrived in England. After each glance, he would struggle for a brief moment to find where he had stopped reading before he had looked up. Russia had recently agreed to recognize Borginia as an independent country. There was one obstacle, though. Both Estonia and Russia had made the first step toward Borginia's total independence, but neither nation had any interest in giving up its land. The borders could not be agreed upon. In particular, Russians in the Pskovskaya Oblast objected to the proposed borders. It was agreed that Pskov was going to remain part of Russia, but all of the Russian land the Borginians wanted was in the Pskovskaya Oblast.

Another issue was a number of Estonians (especially in Tartu maakond) who opposed Borginian independence. A large number of people were going to have to move if they wanted to stay in Estonia. As moving would be expensive, it was understandable that people wanted their homes to remain on Estonian soil. There was also Tartu's cultural history to keep in mind. As the second largest, and one of the oldest, cities in Estonia, few Estonians wanted to part with their claim to it. There was also the claim that the Borginians were only pushing for Tartu because they believed they'd never convince Russia to give up Pskov. No matter what happened, there was going to be some political tension for a while, even if Borginia were to be given its official borders tomorrow.

Miles's cell phone rang. He reached into his pocket and answered it.

"This is Edgeworth," he said.

"M-Mr. Edgeworth, sir…" the voice on the other end said. Miles recognized it instantly as a nervous Detective Gumshoe. "You've gotta help me, sir. They arrested Maggey!"

"On what charges?"

"Murder, sir."

"What evidence did they have against her?"

"Um… Hold on, sir, I'll go get the files."

Miles heard the sounds of rummaging.

"Something going on?" Ema asked.

"Someone Gumshoe is infatuated with got arrested," Miles replied.

Ema gasped. "Oh, no! Is she…?"

"That's what I intend to find out."

"What is?" Gumshoe asked.

"Sorry," Miles replied. "Ema's with me right now, and she was curious about your call. So, about the evidence…"

"Well, first, we've got the autopsy report. The victim was shoved from a height of two stories and broke his neck."

"I see. And what pointed to Byrde?"

"Some glasses were found under his body, and Maggey's wearing her spare pair."

"Circumstantial. What else?"

"Her name was written in the dirt by the victim's finge—"

"That's impossible."

"Huh?"

"If he broke his neck, he died almost instantly. He wouldn't have had time to write anyone's name."

"But we found dirt under his fingernails…"

"That only proves that his finger was used to write the name; it doesn't prove he wrote it."

"It doesn't?"

Miles sighed. "Suppose I grabbed your hand when you had your finger extended and wrote a name in the dirt by moving your hand in the right directions. Does that mean you wrote the name?"

"No…"

"That alone throws suspicion on the case against Byrde. What else pointed to her as the culprit?"

"A witness."

"And what does the testimony sound like?"

"He said he saw Maggey push the victim off the ledge."

"Is that it?"

"Yeah, sir. He said she ran away after that and he called the police."

"I see. Do you know who the defense attorney is?"

"It's Mr. Wright, sir."

"So that implies Franziska will be facing him."

"No, sir. Not this time. She hasn't been around the last few days. Probably sick."

_It must be really severe if it can stop her from facing Wright…_

"I see. So who is the prosecutor?"

"Winston Payne."

Miles laughed. Having Payne face Wright in a dubious case was like sending a fly to kill a frog. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, Detective. I'm already suspicious that Byrde was framed, and if Payne is facing Wright in this case, then he'll almost certainly lose."

"You really think so, sir?"

"I remember Byrde; I doubt she'd ever feel the desire to commit murder. You have nothing to be concerned about. If Byrde's innocent, Wright will prove it."

"O-okay… Thanks, sir."

"You're welcome." Miles hung up. He turned to Ema. "From the sound of it, Byrde was framed."

"And Mr. Wright's defending her?"

"Yes. Considering who the prosecutor is, I think a not guilty verdict is almost guaranteed."

"That's good…" Ema trailed off. She looked as though she had something on her mind, but didn't want to bring it up. Miles decided to return to his paper until Ema decided to start talking again. He looked up from his paper from time to time. After finishing the Borginia article, he flipped through the pages.

It was then he noticed Franziska's picture on one of the pages. "Legendary Prosecutor Deprived of Chance at Revenge." The article was a fairly small one. Franziska had fallen ill, losing an opportunity to face Wright in Byrde's trial. The disease itself was unspecified, but the general consensus was that it was the flu.

"Lana!" Miles heard Ema chirp. He looked up from his newspaper and saw Ema run to her sister and hug her tightly. He folded his newspaper and walked in Lana's direction, feeling a smile form on his face as he approached her. Ema noticed Miles approaching and let go of Lana. When Lana looked in Miles's direction, she closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. Miles took Lana's hands in his own as they leaned forward for a small kiss.

"It's wonderful to see you again," Miles said when their lips parted.

"And this time, nothing's going to come between us," Lana replied with a smile.

"Yes." Miles sighed happily. "I feel as though we've never been closer than we are now. All that happened…"

"It only served to strengthen our bond." Lana let go of Miles's hands. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Lana turned to Ema. "You and Alice will have to lead me," she said. "I don't know where you parked." They started walking in the direction of the car park. "So how's everyone adapting?"

"The cats were going nuts back when we first got here," Ema said, "but they've calmed down now. I'm just doing fine. I've made a whole bunch of new friends, and I've learned so much about forensics!"

Lana smiled. "And what about you, Miles?"

"Getting used to London was rather easy for me. I had purchased an apartment before I even arrived, and I've found a good home for Pess."

"A good home?"

"A defense attorney I met was willing to take care of him. Apparently, his own dog needed a companion."

"That's good to hear. Is he doing well?"

"From what I've heard, he's doing wonderfully. Mr. Gavin seems to enjoy his company, too. Supposedly almost the polar opposite of his own dog."

"That's great. You're not too lonely without him, are you?"

"It sometimes bothers me, but now that you're here, I doubt I'll have to worry about being alone again for a long time. I've been putting a lot of work into cleaning my apartment now that Pess is gone. Hopefully, you won't even notice his traces when you visit."

"Thanks. It'll be nice to visit you without sneezing every three minutes. And what about a job?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Miles replied. "I'm a prosecutor."

"You should see him prosecute!" Ema exclaimed as they walked out of the terminal. "He's amazing! He gave up a guilty verdict once to make sure the defendant got the right sentence."

"That was a relatively simple case," Miles stated. "It's the complex cases that I need to master—cases like the ones Wright usually ends up handling."

"You're making progress, though, from the sound of it," Lana said. "Finding the right path is hard to do in one step."

"Of course. Now, what about you? Now that you're in England, you will finally be able to prosecute."

"That's true—assuming I can get them to overlook SL-9."

"That's been taken care of. I discussed the situation at length with the courts, and they agreed that your actions could not be held against you."

Lana closed her eyes and blushed slightly. She opened her eyes again and looked to Miles, smiling. "Thank you. Sometimes, I feel as if we're already married."

"Likewise." Miles looked to Lana. "I don't think I'm ready yet, though… But I'm close; I can feel it just by looking at you." He paused as he looked into her eyes and took in the smile he had waited half a year to see again. "Your smile really does your name justice. You shine with an angelic aura."

"Miles…"

"So how did you fare? I imagine prison wasn't a fun place for you, but given your crime, it probably wasn't Hell."

Lana sighed, losing the red tone to her face that had developed. "You're right in saying it wasn't Hell. Still, I'm glad to be out. It actually reminded me of dormitory life back in college—communal showers, cellmates, a few amenities available… The main difference is that we were forced to stay in our cells most of the time—not to mention one of my cellmates had a grudge against me."

"Angel Starr, I presume."

"Yes. Nothing serious broke out, but she just wasn't ready to let the past go. I suppose I can't blame her; my actions have—"

"Lana," Miles interrupted, knowing that she was going to be saddened by thinking about what her actions did. "That no longer matters. What matters is that you regret it. If the criminal truly regrets their crimes and realizes that what they did was wrong, there is no need to punish them any further. Laws and sentences exist to make sure that those who commit crimes without regret have other reasons than guilt to avoid breaking the law.

"Besides, thanks to all the forgeries you pointed out, those who were convicted with illegal evidence were allowed to appeal their cases. I know it was too late for some, but you did the right thing in the end. Anyone who hasn't forgiven you is someone you don't need forgiveness from." He paused. "Look to the future, which for you is brighter than even your smile." He looked to Lana again. It was difficult not to see how wonderful she was feeling. He thought he saw her eyes forming tears.

"See?" Ema commented to Alice as they entered the car park. "I told you they're a good couple!" At that point, both Miles and Lana laughed.

"I guess I owe you an apology, Mr. Edgeworth," Alice said. "I was rather skeptical when I heard that you were dating Lana. You're almost nothing like my brother."

"Consider your apology accepted," Miles replied.

"Speaking of siblings, Miles," Lana said, "Franziska decided to visit me in prison for some reason."

"Really? Hm. That's not like her at all."

"I thought about it, too. I get the impression she wanted to look mentally strong."

"How so?"

"Well, if I had thought you really were dead, then she would look the more stable of the two of us."

"I suppose that makes sense… Even though she's got some sensitive points, she always does try to appear strong."

"And who better to look strong in front of than someone who recently lost the man she loved? She'd seem invincible." Lana half-sighed, half-laughed. "I think I rubbed her the wrong way by being strong."

"Don't let it bother you. Franziska's under a lot more stress than she wants people to think. She'll calm down in enough time, but for now, she needs to handle things on her own."

"Um…" Ema cut in, "you never said anything about a sister…"

"Franziska's not my sister, per se, but she and I are very close. You know I was raised by von Karma after my father died, right?"

"Yes…"

"Franziska is Manfred von Karma's second daughter. She looked up to me when we were a lot younger, but now she tends to think of me as more of a rival than a role model. She doesn't express it much, but I know she still cares about me to some extent."

"See that car?" Alice interrupted, pointing to a small blue car parked near the back. "That's mine."

"Hm…" Lana sighed. "We might have a problem, then. I don't think all my bags are going to fit in the trunk."

"That's an easy problem to solve," Miles said. "Some of the bags will be put in the back seats and we'll take the Underground. That's how I got here, after all. All you need to do is switch trains at King's Cross St. Pancras and take the Circle, Metropolitan, or Hammersmith and City line to Barbican. Alice and Ema can meet you at the station and take you to her flat."

Lana chuckled. "You mean you don't have a car?"

"There's no need for a car in a city with such great public transit. Besides, the traffic here makes San Diego look good."

"Yeah!" Ema chimed in. "There are actually parts of the city where the traffic is so bad that they make you pay a toll just to drive through them!"

Lana looked out at the parked cars.

_Why…? Right._

"Lana?" Alice cut in. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh," Lana managed to say, returning to reality. "No, nothing's wrong."

"You were staring at the cars."

"I just thought about the Prosecutor's Office parking lot."

"Oh…" Ema said somewhat sadly, apparently recalling the murder.

"I wasn't thinking about that," Lana said. "You can guess what I mean, right, Miles?"

"Of course," Miles answered. "That's where I confessed my love to you—and where we shared our first kiss."

"In a car park?" Alice asked, apparently thinking it was a silly place to confess one's love.

"Yes. I had noticed my feelings for her a few weeks earlier, but it was only that morning, after dreaming about her, that I realized I was not just infatuated. I managed to catch Lana as she was about to leave for home. She had been there to deliver a report to someone."

"By that time, I knew I was in love with Miles, too," Lana added. "But I didn't want to cause him any unnecessary stress; he was dealing with five cases at the same time, and I could tell he was under a lot of pressure. I didn't realize that part of his stress was his feelings for me."

"Let's see if I can recall my exact words…" Miles paused for a moment, thinking as he tried to redraw the scene from memory while Lana's bags were loaded into the car.

* * *

Miles saw Lana opening the door to her car and realized he had to act now. He had decided that morning that he was going to tell her the moment he saw her. He had an entire afternoon to gather the courage to do so, and he knew that it was best just to keep the confession simple and to the point lest he wander away from doing so while talking to her.

"Lana," he called. "I'm glad I caught you."

"Is something wrong?" Lana asked as Miles approached her.

"No… nothing's wrong... but I need to see you."

"What is it?"

Miles closed his eyes and struggled for a moment.

"I love you," he finally said. He felt the slight pressure on his heart lift as the words left his mouth.

Lana gasped slightly, then smiled as she placed her right hand over her heart. "I love you, too," she replied with a pleased sigh. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. You're under so much stress already…"

Miles took Lana's right hand and held it in both hands. "I can already feel some of it lifting."

* * *

"And then we kissed," Miles said, "and the rest is history."

"And what a good time to end the story," Alice said as she closed the trunk. "We'll meet you at Barbican."

"Hold it!" Ema interrupted. "Do you mind if I tag along? I've never been on the Underground before."

Lana looked at Miles, smiling. "I don't mind at all," she said.

"Likewise," Miles said.

Alice waved good-bye as she got into her car. Miles, Lana, and Ema stepped aside so she could back out of her parking space and leave. Despite the comfort provided by being together, no one was able to find a topic to talk about. Perhaps it was better that way; Miles never thought too highly of small talk—too surface-level for his preferences. Ema shared stories of forensic science—in great detail. Lana, being the loving sister she was, paid attention and occasionally gave her input. From time to time, Miles commented, but he was mostly quiet during the trip to his stop. He bid the two sisters farewell when he got off and switched to the train to his apartment.

_I'll have to watch some of Lana's trials; I'm sure to learn something. The sooner I know which path is right, the sooner she can walk that path with me. I already get the feeling that the ring will leave my hands before long. Despite all that happened to her, she's still the same incredible woman she always was… I suppose that's one of the reasons I love her; she's as strong as she is kind—even more beautiful on the inside than she is on the outside._


	31. Part II, Chapter 5: Perfect

**Chapter 5—Perfect**

November 14, 2017

Lana tried to get her mind in the right position. It was her first case, and part of her was excited and thought of it as though it was a game. She hated that side of her at the moment. The case had room for doubt, but the investigation was quite certain that the defendant was guilty. Lana herself had participated, so she thought the same thing. Still, it was possible that she was framed, too. Her husband could have conceivably committed the crime and simply put the incriminating evidence in her flat. Lana returned to looking over the report.

_Is there anything odd at all about this case? Mr. Hall is the only other suspect, and he has a rather strong alibi._

"It's been a while since I've seen you in green," a voice said. Lana recognized it as belonging to Miles almost instantly. He walked closer to her. "I've never seen you in that suit before. Is it new?"

"Yes," Lana replied. "It's… kind of weird, actually. A while ago, I took a look in the mirror while wearing my old suit, and I decided that I didn't like it that much. Just looking at myself, I felt as though I was returning to the way I was under Gant's control. I couldn't bring myself to wear it…"

"Well, though it means nothing with regards to how you fare in court, I think you look even lovelier in your new suit."

_I had a feeling he'd say that_. "Thanks," Lana said, feeling herself blush.

"What do you think about the case?" Miles asked, sitting down next to her.

"I'm almost certain the defendant is guilty. Given the circumstances, the only other possible suspect is her husband, and he's got an excellent alibi."

"And that alibi is…?"

"Cataplexy."

"I'm… not familiar with that term."

"Basically, it causes REM sleep paralysis while the patient is still awake. Patients can sometimes collapse completely and spontaneously. If he tried to steal the vase and had a cataplexy attack while fleeing, he'd be caught for sure. Considering the stress involved in stealing a valuable artifact from the British Museum, an attack is almost guaranteed."

"You know that doesn't guarantee he's innocent."

"Of course I know that. However, he was also at a pub when the crime happened. Plenty of people corroborated his alibi. Besides, there's also evidence that the defendant was at the scene of the crime: a security camera picture of her. It's still technically not decisive, but she and her husband are the only people who could have taken the vase to their flat. Unless she was there after the museum's closing time by chance while her husband sneaked past all of the security cameras and stole the sculpture, she's guilty."

"And what if there's another possibility?"

"It's possible someone else did all this, but it seems unlikely. The investigation didn't uncover any other leads, so it falls on the defense to point out anything we missed."

"I see."

"I tend to think of the defense as my partner in a game of whist. Either one of us can take the trick, and in that way, we're competing, but we also work together."

"Well put," Miles said with a smile.

Lana chuckled. "You look nice with a smile, too."

Miles was silent for a moment. He placed his hand on Lana's. "I think it's my turn to be proud of you. It's your first case and you already have an excellent sense of how to proceed."

"I have you to thank for that. Seeing you prosecute, seeing you fight for the truth… You didn't have a fellow prosecutor to learn from; you made your own path. That takes true strength of will and mind."

"It's time," the bailiff's voice called.

"I'll be watching from the gallery," Miles said as he got up. He took Lana's hand as she stood up. She smiled, amused.

* * *

"All rise for His Honour Judge Peter Maxwell," the clerk called out as the judge entered. Lana had seen Miles prosecute a murder case, so she was used to the layout. However, as this was a less serious crime, a lower-ranking judge was presiding.

_Purple on a judge… I certainly can't imagine Judge Clous in that kind of robe._

"You may be seated," the judge said as he took his position. "Court is now in session for the trial of Mrs. Hannah Hall."

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honour," Lana said.

"The defense is ready, Your Honour," the defense attorney said. Her voice almost sounded like Mia's voice.

"Very well," the judge replied. "Ms. Skye, your opening statement, please."

"Of course, Your Honour," Lana stated. "On the night of the Eleventh of November, the Medici Valencian vase was stolen from the British Museum. A security camera took a photograph of an intruder that night, and the stolen vase was found in that intruder's flat the following day. That intruder is none other than the defendant, Mrs. Hannah Hall."

"Very well. What plea does the defense intend to enter?"

"Not guilty," the defense said.

"Understood. Ms. Skye, please call your first witness."

"The prosecution calls Detective Richard Cox to the stand," Lana said. "His testimony, in addition to the evidence presented, shall make the defendant's guilt quite clear."

The detective took the stand.

"Please state your name and occupation to the court," Lana requested.

"Richard Cox," the detective replied. "Constable, Criminal Investigation Department."

"Very good," the judge said. "Testify to the court about the circumstances of the defendant's arrest."

"Yes, Your Honour. The case was pretty simple. You see, there was nothing abnormal in the museum's camera data—save for one photograph. That photograph, taken after hours, was of the defendant. We identified her and got a warrant to search her flat. The vase was found hidden in a wardrobe. The only other suspect was her husband, but the security cameras didn't get any shots of him, not to mention he was at a pub when the crime happened. It's pretty clear-cut."

"Hm. Indeed, it does sound clear-cut. One has to wonder why the defendant didn't just bypass the trial entirely on a plea bargain."

"It's because she's innocent!" the defense attorney snapped. The courtroom was silent for a moment. The judge banged his gavel.

He cleared his throat. "If that's the case, I hope you'll be able to prove it in this cross-examination. By the way, please don't snap at me like that. The next time you make any unnecessary outbursts, you will be penalized."

"Your Honour," Lana added, "before that, I would like to present to the court the photograph taken by the security camera." Lana opened a file folder and took out the photograph. The defendant had barely been caught in the photo, but her face was recognizable. "Mrs. Hall worked at the museum before the crime was committed. She knew the location of all the security cameras. It appears she was just a little too slow to avoid this one, though."

"Accepted into evidence. Ms. Crocker, please begin your cross-examination."

"Detective, what you have said makes perfect sense," Crocker said, "but you have forgotten one thing. My client has an alibi."

"Excuse me?" Lana asked. "During questioning, she never mentioned an alibi."

"That doesn't mean she didn't have one. It just means she didn't feel like telling you about it. After all, it's not something she wants publicized."

"Please enlighten the court, then," the judge requested. "You claim the defendant has an alibi. What is it?"

"She was having an abortion performed."

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel repeatedly.

"Order! Order!" he yelled. "This abortion…"

"Was legal," Crocker finished. "However, as the witness is a Catholic, she wanted the procedure—as well as her pregnancy—kept a secret. After all, abortion is heavily frowned upon by the Catholic church. However, since she refused to reveal it, it fell upon my shoulders to disclose it to the court."

The gallery was silent for a moment.

"I… I see…" the judge finally said.

"Objection!" Lana shouted. "Ms. Crocker, this abortion… I assume you have medical records of it?"

"Right here," Crocker said, pulling out a file.

"A-accepted into evidence," the judge said.

"I see," Lana said. "Then please tell us: who is the woman in the security camera photograph?"

"The defendant's husband," Crocker replied.

"Objection! Mr. Hall has a watertight alibi!"

"Objection! That alibi was completely fabricated! Everyone who claimed Hall was at the pub had a personal connection to him and lied to protect him!"

_What nonsense is this? You think you can turn the tables on a solid case that easily?_ "In that case, where's your proof that the person in the photograph is Mr. Hall?"

"My proof is a witness. The defense requests to call Mr. David Gurns to the stand!"

The gallery was noisier than a rock concert at this point. The judge banged his gavel several times.

"Orderrrr!" he yelled. "Ms. Skye. This alibi the defendant's husband had… was the prosecution aware that it was flawed?"

"The prosecution stands by its claim that Mr. Hall's alibi is watertight," Lana replied. "The defense is undoubtedly lying to win the case."

"Prove it," Crocker taunted.

_I will. But right now, let's look at this witness of yours._ "The prosecution will establish the fault in the defense's claims through the very witness they wish to call. Other witnesses will further confirm our claim."

"Very well," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "Mr. David Gurns shall assume the stand."

Gurns took the stand. Lana knew from Crocker's claim that he was going to lie.

_So the game of whist has become a game of hearts. You'll regret that decision, Ms. Crocker._

"Witness, please state your name and occupation for the court."

"David Gurns," the witness replied. "I'm a digital artist."

_So that's your trick, is it? Well, I'm sure you'll play the queen of spades soon enough. I have all the aces, and I'll put them to good use._

"Please testify to the court, then," the judge requested. "The person in the photograph: the defense claims it's Mr. Hall; the prosecution insists it's the defendant. Who is it?"

"That photograph is a fake," Gurns testified. "One of my co-workers was hired by Ms. Skye to alter the photograph."

The gallery started jeering at Lana, interrupting the testimony. The judge banged his gavel.

"Order! Let the witness continue!"

_Cute trick, Crocker. It's going to be exposed, though. I've heard more believable lies from Philip Morris._

"He was paid a thousand pounds for the job and eagerly accepted it," Gurns continued. "Originally, this was a photograph of Mr. Hall. Part of it was cut off so the person in the photo looked as though he had the defendant's physique."

The courtroom was quiet enough for one to hear a pin drop.

"M… Ms. Skye!" the judge roared. "You…"

"I deny all claims of forgery," Lana interrupted calmly. "After all, where is the original photograph, then?"

"Right here," Crocker answered, taking a photograph out of her files. "This original photograph, as you can see, is larger and clearly shows the defendant's husband."

_Foolish move. Exposing that lie will be child's play._

"Objection!" Lana shouted. "Your Honour, I'd like to request that the two photographs be measured."

"E… Excuse me?" the judge asked.

"Standard security photographs—including those taken by the cameras at the British Museum—are size A4 when printed out. Which one is size A4, I wonder?"

"Size… A4? Um… Bailiff! Bring me a ruler!"

The bailiff ran out of the courtroom and brought back a ruler moments later. Lana looked over to Crocker and saw that she was sweating. _The queen is mine now, Crocker. This next trick has the last of the hearts. I'm sure I'll take it._

"Thank you," the judge said. "Hm…" He measured the two photographs. "They're equal in the short dimensions, but the one from the defense is longer. But… what are the measurements for A4 paper?"

"210 by 297 millimeters," the stenographer said.

"I see. In that case, they're both fake."

"Wait!" the stenographer interrupted. "Size A4 paper is still acceptable if the dimensions are off by two millimeters or less."

"Hm?" The judge looked at his notes. His face contorted into a scowl. "Ms. Crocker."

_And I've shot the moon. You should have played fair, Crocker._

"Yes, Your Honour?" Crocker replied, pretending to be calm.

"You are hereby held in contempt of court for presenting forged evidence."

"Objection! What about the medical records? As long as those are real, my client has an alibi and is therefore innocent!"

"They will be examined. This court will take a thirty-minute recess for the necessary analyses to be performed. Regardless of their legitimacy, your presentation of fabricated evidence will be reviewed by the Bar Association. I retract my previous decision to hold the defense in contempt of court… for now. Court is in recess."

* * *

Lana entered the Defendant Lobby. She and the defense needed to talk.

"What do you want?" Crocker snapped, noticing Lana.

"The truth," Lana replied.

"I'm guilty," the defendant said.

"No!" Crocker yelled. "Stop saying that! You're innocent!"

"No, you stop!" the defendant yelled back. "I never should have hired you! I ask you to give me a proper defense and you forge evidence and try to pin the crime on my husband! You're just a selfish wench who doesn't give a damn about her clients! You… You're fired!"

Crocker laughed. "And what will happen to you? You saw Ms. Skye—"

"I don't care! I'd rather go to prison than have you get my husband convicted of a crime I committed! Get out of my sight!"

"I've heard enough," Lana said. "You're not fit to stand in court, Ms. Crocker. We deal with people's lives in here; lies can send innocent people to their deaths. What was said in here can't be used in court against you, but you can be sure that this case will end in disaster for you." Lana walked out of the lobby. Mrs. Hall was hardly any better, considering that her decision to try to get acquitted meant that someone else would be convicted if she succeeded. Still, Lana respected her for coming to her senses in the end.

Crocker was almost sure to get disbarred; she had forged evidence, not to mention the "witness" was probably bribed and Crocker's alibi for her client was likely a lie. It was foolish to lie in court, let alone in such a small case. Lana had no pity for the woman; she deserved whatever punishment she had coming.

* * *

"Court is in session," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "The analysis has confirmed that the medical files were forged. Had the defense not been dismissed during the recess, they would have been held in contempt of court. Mrs. Hall, you may represent yourself now or ask for a public defense attorney."

"I…" Mrs. Hall stammered. "I give up. I'm guilty. The director had fired me a few weeks ago because I had rejected his advances on me. I stole the vase as revenge. The money from selling it would make me and John able to get a better flat. A cataplexy attack cost him his last job… I didn't want him to be stuck in a substandard flat just because he can't get a job.

"In my desperation, I forgot… if I was acquitted, someone else would have to be convicted. I should have gone with a plea bargain from the start. If I had known Crocker would try to get my husband convicted, I would have never hired her. I had nothing to do with the lies Crocker told." She started crying. "Lock me up. I'm guilty. I stole the vase."

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel. "Very well," he said. "Ms. Skye, do you have anything to say?"

"The defendant has my respect for telling the truth in the end," Lana said, "but that does not absolve her of her crime. As Mrs. Hall has confessed and all points have been considered, I believe there is no need to wait any longer for the verdict."

"Agreed. This court finds the defendant, Mrs. Hannah Hall, guilty of theft. I sentence her to three years in a Category C prison. Court is adjourned." The judge banged his gavel.

* * *

Lana returned to the Prosecution Lobby and saw Miles waiting there. He was sitting on the sofa, relaxing somewhat. He got up upon noticing Lana.

"You were incredible," he said. "You stood your ground against a dishonest defense and came out unscathed. And the strategy for revealing the forgery… genius." He walked closer. "I learned so much from you in just one case."

"It's only because you blazed the trail for me," Lana replied. "I've learned even more from you, and I can tell just from seeing your trials that the path you walk is a just one."

Miles smiled. Lana saw tears in his eyes. "Yes… Yes… it is a just one." He reached into his coat pocket and took out a small red velvet box. Lana knew what was in it before he even opened it. "Which is why I want you to walk that path by my side." The ring was inside. Lana felt her heart try to burst out of her chest. "I want to marry you."

"Miles…" Lana felt tears form in her own eyes as she took the ring from the box and delicately placed it on her left ring finger. _Never mind that he's proposing in the courthouse… The answer's still the same… _"You know I will." She walked into Miles's arms and hugged him tightly, placing her chin on his right shoulder. She felt Miles's arms tighten around her.

"I love you, Lana," he said. "I always will."

"I love you, too Miles. And now we'll never be forced apart again. I'll always be there for you, and you'll always be there for me. It's finally over. After so much struggling, so many fights, we're together again."

"Yes. And we always will be. …I have a new definition of perfection now. A job I excel at and take pride in, a great home, a fabulous wife… My life is so close to perfect that anyone seeing it from the outside would think it was."

Lana took her head off of Miles's shoulder and looked into his eyes. "Not your life, Miles… Our life."

Miles leaned in slightly. Lana took the hint and kissed him on the lips.

"Yes," Miles said. "Our life."


	32. Part II, Chapter 6: Justice Conquers All

**Chapter 6—Justice Conquers All**

December 31, 2017 and January 1, 2018

Miles looked out the window of the terminal at the jet that would take him back to the United States. From the outside, it didn't look particularly large, but he knew from the sheer length of the flight that it had to be immense. Besides, considering the visible second deck, he knew its outside appearance was deceiving. He smiled, amused, as he raised a camera and took a photograph of the aircraft. Ema had asked him to show her a picture later. The gigantic Airbus A380-900 was the largest type of passenger jet in the world. This one would take Miles from London to Los Angeles, non-stop. The plane wasn't boarding yet, but he knew they were going to make the announcement soon.

He sat down and took out the newspaper he had been reading earlier. It was a day old, but he had seen an article in it that sparked his interest. Specifically, Franziska was prosecuting a case that Wright was defending. The proceedings the previous day had ended in a big mystery. Specifically, a witness had testified that the killer flew in order to flee the scene of the crime.

Gumshoe, who was utterly confused by the case, had called Miles about it and asked for help. There were only two possibilities, and given how difficult a flying trick would be, it seemed far more likely that his theory was correct. Then again, his theory was just as far-fetched.

Miles felt his cell phone start vibrating in his coat pocket.

_Славься, славься, наш Русский Царь!_

_Господом данный нам Царь-Государь!_

_Да__будет__безсмерте_—

"This is Edgeworth," Miles said, answering his cell phone.

"I didn't call at a bad time again, did I?" Gumshoe's voice asked.

"No. It's around nine over here. Still, I can't understand why you'd call so late at night on your end."

"I'm busy filing reports, sir."

"On Franziska's orders, I'm guessing."

"Yes, sir."

"I hope it's not interfering with your work."

"Oh, no, sir! I'm on double overtime!"

"Hm. Other than Franziska's presence, how are things with you?"

"They're just great, sir! I finally got the thermostat in my apartment fixed!"

"Ha. I see. Was it a do-it-yourself job or did you hire someone?"

"I hired someone," Gumshoe said, sounding a little downcast. "When I tried to do it myself, the building blew a fuse and I got charged for the electrician to fix it. …So how are you? Have you made up with Ms. Skye yet?"

"Yes. She and I got engaged a month and a half ago."

"That's GREAT, sir! When's the wedding!?"

"We haven't decided on an exact date yet, but we're planning for it to be sometime this spring. Ema's quite excited about it."

"Um… I'm… kinda scared to ask, but where is it?"

"We haven't decided yet. Balboa Park was suggested, but neither of us saw much point in going all the way to San Diego just for a wedding. We'll most likely have it at one of the churches in London—provided they're willing to host a secular wedding."

"Oh…" Gumshoe sounded extremely saddened by that news.

"I'd be willing to pay for your trip over here if money's an issue for you."

"No… I couldn't… Not that much, sir…"

"If it means your presence at our wedding, Lana and I are both willing to pay."

"I… I really couldn't…"

"Not even if it was because I want you to be my best man?"

"N… No… I really need every penny I can earn… E-Even if you…" Gumshoe paused. Miles thought he heard the sound of crying.

_Poor Gumshoe…_

"I'll take Balboa Park into further consideration," Miles said. "If the wedding were there, would you be able to attend?"

"Wh… What, sir?"

"If we had the wedding at Balboa Park, would you be able to attend."

"Yes! Yes, sir!"

"I'll talk to Lana about it, then. Don't get your hopes up, but we'll definitely give it more consideration than we initially did."

"Thank you, sir…"

"Now… On a different note, has the Galactica case ended, or is it carrying over another day?"

"Not guilty. I gave Mr. Wright your messages, too."

"I see… What made the case?"

"Just like you thought… Yesterday's search really paid off, sir! Umm… You had it all figured out yesterday, didn't you?"

"It was just a theory… If Acro really was the killer, I thought this was the only way it could end. Especially if 'he' was the defense attorney…"

"You mean Mr. Wright?"

"Of course… Well Detective, my plane is about to leave. Do me a favor and try not to be too harsh on Acro. Once I get back, I'll make a stop by the Chief Prosecutor's Office."

"Yes sir! I'll be waiting for you! Goodbye Mr. Edgeworth!"

Miles sighed as he hung up. Admittedly, he felt somewhat sorry for Franziska, though he was glad the right verdict was given. Still, given her likely mood after losing a case, it was probably going to be a good idea to avoid her for the time being. The trip was more so business than social. The only reason he was going was in order to help convince the Bar Association that Lana could still prosecute. The British had been willing to excuse her actions, but the American system was unlikely to be so forgiving.

Lana had left for the United States the previous day. As Miles was engaged to her, he was not going to actually help decide whether or not she could become a prosecutor. However, he was going to attend the meeting to help Lana's case. Dzhugashvili was going to be leading the panel, and he was known for sticking strictly to the rules. However, there were rules that he would likely forget. That was what Miles was there for; if necessary, he would bring up counterpoints to every point Dzhugashvili made.

"VIRGIN ATLANTIC FLIGHT 13, NON-STOP SERVICE TO LOS ANGELES, HAS COMMENSED BOARDING FOR UPPER CLASS PASSENGERS."

Miles folded the newspaper up and placed it in his bag. After checking to make sure everything was in order, he walked over to the gate. The flight was going to be a long one. Then again, he chose Upper Class seating for a good reason. What better place on a jet to take a nap in than an Upper Class seat?

* * *

Miles could not help but smile as he walked into the Prosecutor's Office Lobby the following day. The receptionist briefly glanced at Miles as he opened the door, then looked back to his computer. A moment later, he looked back at Miles in shock.

"M-Mr. Edgeworth!?" he exclaimed. "H… How…?"

"That can be cleared up later," Miles answered. "I'm needed at the hearing for Ms. Lana Skye."

Without another word, Miles walked to the elevator and called it, waiting a few moments before the doors opened with the familiar ding. He entered, pressing the button for the thirteenth floor as the doors closed.

Upon reaching the thirteenth floor, Miles walked into the meeting room. Several lawyers were waiting there to serve on the panel that would decide Lana's case. Lana was already seated at an individual table while the rest of the tables were arranged in a U shape, all positioned so the panel could see Lana perfectly. Miles recognized several of the lawyers there. Marvin Grossberg's unmistakable figure occupied one table next to Winston Payne. Dzhugashvili was at another table.

Miles took his seat next to Lana as the last members of the panel filed in.

"And here I was thinking Ms. Skye was joking," Payne commented as Miles entered.

"I'd think my ring would prove that I wasn't," Lana replied.

"Moving on," Dzhugashvili said, "everyone has arrived, so let's begin the hearing. Ms. Skye, what is your reason for thinking you should be allowed to prosecute in the United States?"

"The forgeries I committed were coerced, and were Ema not in danger, I would have never committed them."

"If your sister were to be used to force you to forge evidence again, would you?"

Lana didn't answer.

"Ms. Skye, answer the question," Dzhugashvili said.

"I don't know," Lana replied.

"And that is why we cannot let you prosecute here," Payne said.

Miles laughed.

"What's so funny, Mr. Edgeworth?" Grossberg asked.

"The argument that since Ms. Skye might act selfishly, she cannot prosecute," Miles answered.

"Well, that is a rather—"

"Mr. Grossberg," Miles interrupted. "The argument is severely flawed. Plenty of people are allowed to stand in court despite selfish desires. In fact, one such person recently did just that. If you're going to use selfishness as an excuse to keep Ms. Skye from prosecuting, then it appears a fair number of you will need to be disbarred."

"Excuse me? Mr. Edgeworth, I won't have you slandering us."

"It's no slander. After all, Mr. Grossberg, I believe you are one such person who acted selfishly. Do you recall what I speak of?"

"My boy, I did nothing ille—"

"Stop right there. This argument is not about legality, but selfishness. You sold sensitive information for a large sum of money. I think few here would not call that selfish. In fact, that particular leak was illegal."

Lana cleared her throat. "Indeed," she said, "my time serving Gant has shown me that the legal world is not an altruistic one. At least half of you have acted selfishly at one point or another."

"Nonsense!" Payne barked, striking the table with his left hand.

"Coldkiller X," Lana said.

Payne winced. "I-I retract my previous statement."

"How many of you can safely say that you have never once in your legal careers acted selfishly?" Lana continued.

There was no response.

"Well?"

Still nothing. Even Dzhugashvili was silent. Lana smiled.

"It looks like that argument has fallen short. What other reasons might there be for not allowing me to prosecute?"

"You broke the law," Grossberg said.

"So did you," Lana replied before Miles could speak, "yet you still have your badge."

Grossberg didn't reply, but it was clear that Lana's statement had hit a nerve.

"Anything else?"

"The law is still the law," Dzhugashvili said after a moment. "You are right in saying that there are lawyers who have broken the law. They will be dealt with as is necessary. The fact remains that you broke the law, though, and thus, you cannot be allowed to prosecute here."

"I disagree," Miles responded.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, Ms. Skye forged evidence. However, responsibility for the evidence used in court does not fall on the Chief Prosecutor. Rather, it falls on the prosecutor in charge of the case. As Ms. Skye has not directly prosecuted any cases here, she cannot be kept from prosecuting on the grounds that you outlined. However, if you intend to call for the disbarment of all lawyers who have presented forged evidence, knowingly or unknowingly, then the Prosecutor's Office will be a rather lonely place before long."

Dzhugashvili was silent for a moment, apparently thinking.

_Let me guess: "You're only saying that because you love her."_

"Mr. Edgeworth, I think it's rather clear that your reason for saying that is that you love Ms. Skye."

"The law is the law," Miles replied, smiling. "My reason for bringing it up does not change the fact that it will need to be enforced if your demands are to be met."

"Surely you realize that you will be among the disbarred."

"Of course I realize it. After all, I'm the first person who used Gant's handiwork."

No one seemed willing to speak.

"So," Miles continued, "is there anything more that needs to be debated? Indeed, Mr. Dzhugashvili raises a valid point. However, this panel would not be voting on the matter were the law all that carried weight in this hearing."

"Hm," Dzhugashvili hummed. "I have a proposal. Ms. Skye, you are currently authorized to prosecute in the United Kingdom, correct?"

"Yes," Lana replied.

"In that case, I propose that you prosecute there for one year. After the year has passed, we will review your record there and use only that to decide whether or not you shall be allowed to prosecute here. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes."

"What about the rest of you?" Dzhugashvili asked the panel. "Any objections?"

There was no response.

"Then we have a consensus. Ms. Skye, you will return in one year to have your record reviewed and your privilege to prosecute in the United States ascertained."

"Thank you," Lana replied.

"That is all. This meeting is adjourned."

Dzhugashvili stood up and calmly walked out. The rest of the panel did likewise, as did Miles and Lana. As they waited for everyone to walk out the door before they left, there was an uneasy silence between them.

_I hope I didn't offend her… The way I spoke in there, I didn't give Lana a chance to prove her point on her own…_

"Miles…" Lana finally said as they walked toward the elevators, "back in the meeting… were you bluffing?"

"Bluffing?" Miles asked, confused.

"When you pointed out your own responsibility for the evidence, would you have really accepted disbarment over this, or were you bluffing?"

"It was no bluff," Miles answered without any pause. "Justice means very much to me, but I won't fight for a system that is unjust even if it is in the pursuit of justice." He looked to Lana. "There was also you to consider. I wasn't going to stand by and do nothing as you took partial blame for Gant's crimes. You deserve another chance; I wasn't going to let the Bar Association be swayed by a bad first impression."

Lana took Miles's right hand in her left as they walked. "You risked your badge for me. I didn't know you cared about me that much."

_Was it really for you? If I was helping someone I had a neutral opinion of, would I have done the same?_

"I choose to believe you did it for me," Lana said, apparently noticing Miles's sudden change in facial expression. "And even if you didn't, that wouldn't change anything. I know you take pride in your duty. Whether you do it for yourself or for someone else, as long as it's just, I approve of it."

_Hopefully, choosing between you and justice will never be an issue._

"I'll catch up with you in a moment," Miles said to Lana. "I need to have a word with the Chief Prosecutor."

"Okay." Lana let go of Miles's hand as the elevator heading down to the parking lot arrived. She was about to walk in, but then stopped and turned back to Miles. "What do you think about going out for dinner tonight?"

"Do you have anywhere in particular in mind?"

"I'm fine with any place. I'm not picky."

"As long as it's not some squalid diner, I'm fine with any place."

"Okay. I'll call you once I've chosen a place. Does that sound—"

The elevator buzzed loudly, interrupting Lana's question.

"That sounds fine," Miles replied over the buzzing.

Lana smiled, her teeth shining like polished white marble, before entering the elevator.

___Miles turned to another elevator and called for one to take him up. It didn't take long for one to arrive. He stepped in and went to the twentieth floor._

_Why do I get the feeling Dzhugashvili's the new Chief Prosecutor?_

___Miles approached the door, and, sure enough, the plaque in front said, IVAN DZHUGASHVILI. He knocked on the door._

_"__Come in," Dzhugashvili said from the other side. Miles opened the door and walked in. Apparently, Dzhugashvili had seen fit to change the décor. Rather than the high-tech modern appearance it had when Lana was the Chief Prosecutor, the office now looked like a trip to the 19____th____ Century. The only modern-looking object in the room was the computer. A gigantic dark wood bookcase lined an entire wall, stretching from floor to ceiling and filled with numerous law books, case files, and leisure reading. "Have a seat," Dzhugashvili said._

_"__Thank you," Miles replied, sitting down in the chair in front of Dzhugashvili's desk._

_"__I have to admit, I didn't expect you to go so far for Ms. Skye."_

_"__I don't know whether I pointed out our responsibility to save Lana or because it simply needed to be considered."_

_"__Would you have done that had the person at the hearing, for example, been Mr. Payne?"_

_"__Probably not."_

_"__Exactly. It appears you are still swayed by personal opinions and emotion from time to time."_

_"__However, regardless of the reason, I was still correct."_

_"__That you were, which is why I kept your argument in mind. …Moving on, is there something you wished to discuss with me?"_

_"__Yes. I get the impression that my parting message led to a rather serious misunderstanding."_

_"__To some, yes," Dzhugashvili stated. "Your friend Mr. Wright apparently thinks rather ill of you now."_

_"__I'll tend to that wound when the time comes. More importantly, has my record here been terminated?"_

_"__No. I was almost certain you were still alive. Had you really died, I'm sure Detective Gumshoe would have been far more depressed than he acted."_

_"__I see. Did he actually tell anyone?"_

_"__No. Anyway, if your record's all you came to ask about, then that's it."_

_"__That's all. I imagine I'll come back every now and then. I'm sure Franziska's under a lot of stress."_

_"__That much is quite clear. The detectives are under even more stress because of it."_

_"__I hope she hasn't given you any trouble."_

_"__Not at all. The instant she tried to whip me the first time, I blocked the whip with my cane. when the whip wound around it, I easily wrested it from her hands. Ever since then, she's had a good understanding of who's in charge."_

_"__Congratulations," Miles said with a laugh. "Very few people can tame that wild mare."_

_"__I got that impression."_

___For a moment, neither of them spoke._

_"__Anyway," Dzhugashvili said, "if that's all you came for, then you may go."_

_"__That's all," Miles said as he got up. "I'm sure we'll meet again soon enough."_

_"__Until we meet again," Dzhugashvili said as Miles walked out the door._

___Mere seconds after Miles entered the elevator, his cell phone rang._

_"__This is Edgeworth," he said upon answering it._

_"__Miles," Lana said, "I'm really sorry, but we're going to have to cancel our date."_

_"__Why? Did something come up?"_

_"__Yes. Ema called during the meeting, saying that she found Barbara lying on the floor of our apartment."_

_"__Dead?"_

_"__No, just inactive. She was breathing, and could still tell when Ema or Katara was nearby, but she wouldn't get up."_

_"__Oh, dear…"_

_"__She's at the vet now, but Ema wants me to be available to call once the diagnosis is done."_

_"__Okay… Do you want me to come to your room?"_

_"__No… Not now, anyway."_

_"__I understand. If you ever feel you need to be with me, just call me. I'll be over as soon as possible."_

_"__Thank you."_

_"__Best wishes, Lana," Miles said._

_"__Thanks. You, too."_

___Lana ended the call. Miles had a strong feeling Barbara was not going to live much longer. According to Lana, she was almost twenty, which was very old for a cat. In addition, she was already suffering from all sorts of problems; she was almost completely blind, had arthritic limbs, vomited almost daily, and was extremely skinny despite having an excellent diet. Even if Barbara survived this latest problem, she was unlikely to live for more than a few months._

_It's at a time like this that families need to be together. I'll be there for you, Lana. For Ema, too. After all, both of you will be part of my family soon enough._


	33. Part II, Chapter 7: Together

**Chapter 7—Together**

January 19, 2018

Barbara's ailment was terminal. Even though the veterinarian could have administered treatment that would keep her alive longer, she would have died before much longer from blood poisoning. Her kidneys had failed. No matter what, she would die soon. The veterinarian, pointing out that Barbara would not last much longer anyway and would otherwise die slowly and agonizingly, suggested euthanasia. Though neither Lana nor Ema liked the idea, they gave their consent.

Lana returned to England two days later. The scene she saw when she walked out of customs was very heartwarming. Miles, who had arrived a few hours prior, was waiting for Lana on a bench, Ema sitting next to him and leaning against him for emotional comfort. There were no tears in her eyes, but it was clear that Ema was still dealing with the initial pain of Barbara's death.

It had been quite a surprise for Lana; she never expected Miles to go to such lengths to comfort her sister—though it was probably only at Ema's insistence that he had done so. Even with Lana, he was not particularly physical. From time to time, they hugged, and there was an occasional kiss, but both actions were typically either done as formalities or because of a mutual surge of passion—such as after Miles's trial or when they got engaged. He always had a fairly strong aversion to touching, which is what made the scene of Ema leaning on him all the more surprising—and all the more pleasing to see; it reassured Lana that he would prove to be a fine father someday.

Still, the matter had been discussed beforehand, and Miles and Lana had both agreed that unless they had a calmer, more settled life by the time they got married, it was best not to have children immediately. What Miles said made perfect sense, even though Lana wasn't necessarily happy about it. As much as she loved children and wanted to have a child someday, she agreed that it was best to settle down before starting a family.

About three weeks had passed since Barbara died. Ema and Lana had moved on for the most part, though her memory still lingered in their minds. Katara had become somewhat cuddlier because of Barbara's death. Now that she didn't have another cat to spend time with, she settled for humans.

At the moment, both Lana and Ema were simply killing time. Ema was on the sofa, watching _The Nickel Samurai_ while she waited for some gases in the "lab" to react. Katara had curled up on her lap. Lana had purchased a flat in the Lauderdale Tower. As there were three potential bedrooms, one of them served as a laboratory for Ema to conduct chemistry experiments. Admittedly, the experiments were all planned out, and Ema essentially knew how the reactions were going to be. Naturally, only specific experiments were allowed—especially after she scared their neighbors by placing nitrogen triiodide near their door. It was a lucky thing that they understood it was a joke and didn't raise a stink over it.

Lana, on the other hand, was reading the most recent issue of _TIME_ while she waited for her birthday cake to be ready. Today was her thirtieth birthday, though Lana had been against the idea of a cake, knowing that Ema would sneak more than her share of it. Eventually, Lana gave in, but she chose a cake that would be less appealing to her younger sister; Ema wasn't overly fond of lemon cake, even if it had chocolate frosting. At the least, Lana could have more than a fourth of the cake that way—and it would help keep Ema in good health, considering her newest favorite food. Lana had made the mistake of buying Ema a bag of a new snack food called "Snackoos" around a week ago. The chocolate-flavored ones had proven especially addictive for her, so much so that Lana started forcing Ema to start taking Hwa Rang Do classes with her to exercise off all the extra calories she was getting—though Ema was practicing at a lower level, naturally.

Miles had asked Lana on a date to celebrate her birthday, but since Ema wanted Lana to stay home, they reached an acceptable compromise: Miles would visit Lana and Ema in their flat. Their dates were rarely much more than friendly outings except for the occasional kiss, hug, or sweet talk. He was due to arrive fairly soon. Part of her was expecting a very expensive present from him. Earlier that day, she had jokingly suggested to Ema that Miles might have bought her a piano; Lana was good at playing the piano, but she was fairly certain that there would be no room in their flat unless it was an upright—not to mention the neighbors might complain if Ema tried to play it.

Ema checked her watch and quickly got up, running to the lab to check on her experiment. Katara almost fell off the sofa, but she righted herself before landing and simply walked over to Lana, curling up in her lap instead.

Ever since Lana got engaged, Ema had made an effort to refer to Miles by his first name—it seemed somewhat rude to talk formally to her future brother-in-law. The results of those efforts had been mixed so far. When it was just her and Lana, Ema said "Miles" a little over half of the time, but whenever Miles was actually there, she tended to still call him "Mr. Edgeworth."

"Traitor," Ema said to Katara as she walked back in. Lana, smiling, stroked the little cat with one hand as she set the magazine aside with the other. Ema sighed, still mock-glaring at Katara. "No matter what you do, I can't get mad at you." She walked to the chair and got down on her knees to stroke the cat. When Lana put her hand down, Katara started licking it.

For a moment, neither sister spoke. The only sounds were the usual sounds of London as heard from their flat, the television, and the faint scratching sound of Katara's tongue across Lana's hand.

"What was the name of that defense attorney Pess lives with now?" Ema asked.

"Kristoph Gavin," Lana replied.

"What's he like? I mean, if Miles trusts him enough to let Pess live with him, then he must be a good person, right?"

Lana briefly took her hand away from Katara and placed her index finger below her lower lip, rubbing it slightly. "It's a bit of a complex answer. He's a kind person, and I don't think he's one to do anything illegal out of malice, but…"

"But…?"

"He's selfish. He can handle defeat, so it's not as if he plays dirty, but he said he became a defense attorney because he turned out to be good at it and he wanted to live a good life. He doesn't really care whether his clients are innocent or guilty. As long as he's not hurt by the case, he'll take it and see it through to the end."

"Oh…"

"He does his job, and he does it right, but for the wrong reasons. Still, Miles and I both think he's a good man on the inside, even if he's selfish."

"Um… Hm…" Ema appeared to wander deep into thought.

"I know the feeling. You want to say bad things about him for being selfish, but a lot of other people are just like him, doing their jobs out of a need or d—"

The doorbell rang.

"Would you mind getting that?" Lana asked, indicating Katara.

With a fake annoyed sigh, Ema got up and walked to the door. Both sisters knew Katara was "portable," so Lana could have easily walked over to the door while holding Katara and then sat back down without having to worry about the cat leaving.

"Hi, Mr. Edgewo— Miles!" Ema greeted after opening the door, managing to catch herself.

"It's nice to see you again, Ema," Miles responded. "May I come in?"

"Oh!" Ema stepped out of the way. "Sure! Sorry about that." Miles entered with a stuffed fox in his hands—Lana's present, no doubt.

_A fox?_

"Thanks for coming," Lana greeted.

"Thanks for having me," Miles replied, approaching Lana. He knelt down and placed the fox on the floor next to the chair. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you." She extended her left hand. Miles took it and leaned toward Lana and kissed her lightly.

"Also, I have some good news. The people at Hyde Park contacted me and said that the event planned on April 29th was canceled, so we can have the wedding then if we want."

Lana felt herself smile.

"Really!?" Ema chirped.

"…Are you sure Gumshoe doesn't mind?" Lana asked, looking at Katara.

"I happened to discuss it with him recently, and he said that he didn't mind—though he wanted us to send him pictures."

Lana smiled and let out a small laugh through her nose. She looked at the fox. "So… why a fox?"

"Because I think a fox suits you. Beautiful, clever, and loyal."

"Loyal?" Ema asked.

"According to the clerk at the store I got it at, foxes mate for life."

"Well, I think a fox suits you for the same reasons, Miles," Lana replied.

"It looks expensive…" Ema commented.

"It cost about one hundred pounds," Miles said. "Růžička is a very expensive company. According to the clerk, their products are 100% handmade from high-quality (and high-priced) materials. I recall seeing a life-size leopard in the store that cost something along the lines of a thousand pounds. There's also the fact that they're all imported from the Czech Republic."

"All that for a birthday present?" Lana teased. "While you're at it, why not buy me a ring made of francium?"

Ema laughed. Miles simply smirked.

"Moving on… about the wedding… Do you want it to be sooner, or do you want to wait until Balboa Park has an opening? I'm in favor of taking this opportunity, and Gumshoe doesn't have any problems with it, but you also have a part to play. I'm not going to push for an earlier wedding if you want to wait."

Lana placed her right hand over her heart and closed her eyes, trying to think.

_I'd love to get married sooner, but can we prepare everything in that time? And what if Gumshoe only said that to make us feel better?_

"Do you need time to think about it?" Miles asked.

"Yes," Lana replied. "How long do I have before you have to contact Hyde Park again?"

"Until someone else asks for the spot." He paused. "Still, don't worry about it too much if we run out of time. We've waited this long and remained loyal, so what's another year if it comes to that?"

"Well, I know where my vote goes," Ema said. "The sooner, the better. You've waited so long, after all."

"That's a good point…" Lana admitted. "I'm just worried Gumshoe only said he was okay with it so we wouldn't feel bad about excluding him. You do owe him your life, after all… as do I."

"…That's true…" Miles agreed. "I'll call him again and ask him if he's sure he doesn't mind."

"No. I'll do it. No offense, but I think your way of talking to him might also have encouraged him to lie about it if he was lying."

"I understand. I know I can be a bit intimidating at times."

"But that's for later. Tonight's just about being together."

"You're absolutely right. So what do you propose we do?"

"How about a game of poker?" Ema chirped, stopping Lana from suggesting anything she would be left out of. Miles and Lana both laughed at her enthusiasm. "…Is that a 'no?'"

"I think poker's fine," Lana said, reassuring Ema. "What about you, Miles?"

"I only know five-card draw," Miles replied, "so if it's any other variant you have in mind, it'll just be you and Ema."

"I don't think that'll be a problem. In prison, that was the style I played with my cellmates."

"I thought you played hearts."

"We played more than just hearts. Whist, bridge, blackjack… you name it. …You're not annoyed about this, are you? I'm guessing you didn't come here just to play a game."

"It's not a problem. I knew we'd be including Ema in this date. Besides, I've always enjoyed a good game."

"Wonderful. Ema, what about you?"

"Don't worry!" she replied, holding the frames of her glasses over her eyes. "If gambling were legal, I'd be bringing in enough money at school to let you stop prosecuting!"

Another round of laughter arose from Ema's statement.

"Five-card draw it is, then," Lana said after everyone was silent. She picked up Katara and took a seat at the dining room table while Ema ran off to get their parents' old game box. Katara curled up on Lana's lap again as though they hadn't even moved. Miles seated himself next to Lana. A moment later, Ema returned.

"Is that your cake I smell?" Miles commented.

"Yes. Would you like to have some once it's done?"

"Certainly. It smells like the days of a certain defense attorney's youth."

They laughed.

"I only chose lemon because Ema's less likely to sneak extra slices during the night," Lana responded. "She likes lemon cake, but not so much that she'll eat more than her share of it."

The sound of crunching signaled Ema's entrance. She walked in carrying the game box with a bag of Snackoos on top of it.

"Give those to me," Lana ordered. "We're going to be having cake soon enough." Lana extended her hand. With a sigh through her nose, Ema gave Lana the bag, then opened up the game box. After taking the green poker chips for herself, she gave Miles the yellow chips and passed the red chips to Lana. Lana placed the bag of Snackoos on the table, out of reach from Ema's seat.

"So who will deal?" Miles asked.

"Not me," Ema said. "I stink at shuffling."

"I'll do it, then," Lana said, taking the deck of cards and shuffling them. She then proceeded to deal out the cards and place the ante of one chip in the pot. Miles and Ema did the same. She picked up her hand: junk, but with the potential for a straight if she got lucky.

"I'll bet three," Miles said, placing three chips in.

Ema said nothing as she called and placed in three.

"I'll call that and raise to five," Lana said, placing four chips in the pot. Miles and Ema both called. "Drawing time."

"One, please," Miles said, discarding one card from his hand. Lana removed a burn card and handed Miles one card.

"I'm good," Ema said.

Lana replaced two cards herself. As she expected, she didn't get the straight she had hoped for, but she had the luck of getting a jack, making a pair.

_And of course it's not a straight._ "Bets?"

Miles placed an additional two chips in. Ema placed in two and raised to four. Lana folded. Miles called.

"Showdown time," Ema said, doing her best to sound tough.

Miles revealed his hand: three aces. Ema had two pairs. Ema's shoulders sagged as Lana extended her right hand for Ema to place her cards in. Miles placed his hand near the deck.

"Hm," Miles muttered.

"Just you wait," Ema taunted.

"No, that's not it," Miles replied. "I just noticed a light line on Lana's palm."

"That's the scar from when I cut myself around a year ago," Lana explained.

"Mm." He closed his eyes as Lana shuffled the deck, apparently still struggling with that memory. "That's what I thought…"

"Come on, don't start thinking about that," Ema requested, noticing Miles's expression. "Lana was acquitted, Gant's in prison, and you're getting married! It's a happy ending!"

Miles smiled. "It is…" He looked toward Lana. "Though our story's far from over."

Lana smiled as she dealt the cards out again and placed the ante. Miles placed nine chips in almost instantly after picking up his hand. Lana checked her hand to see if she had a chance. Knowing Miles, he wouldn't raise to ten on a bluff.

"I'll see it," Ema said, placing nine chips in the pot.

"Not me," Lana said, folding. Miles laughed.

"Good choice," he said.

"We'll see," Ema teased. Again, Miles laughed.

"I've never seen this side of you," he said to Ema. Then, to Lana, "One, please."

Lana removed a burn card and took Miles's card, giving him one.

"Two for me," Ema chirped.

Lana took the two cards Ema discarded and passed two new ones to her.

"I'm staying at ten," Miles said.

"Heh heh," Ema chuckled mischievously. "I'll raise it to fifteen!" She placed an additional five chips in. Miles said nothing as he called. "Let's see what you've got."

Miles and Ema placed their hands down at the same time. Ema had a full house with three kings and two queens. Before Lana could see Miles's hand, Ema's reaction told her that he had won again.

"I was so sure you were bluffing…" Ema whimpered.

"I almost never bluff," Miles said, taking the pot. Lana looked at his hand: four aces and the remaining king.

_How on earth did that happen? Did I shuffle improperly?_

"I'm n-not usually this bad…" Ema stated, crossing her arms.

"Since when were you so competitive?" Miles asked. He looked to Lana.

"She's used to winning," Lana explained. "She almost never gets to play anymore because her friends are convinced she'll always win."

"Well… I'm also used to seeing people get all stone-faced when they're bluffing," Ema said to Miles. "But you always look that way in a poker game. I guess that's one of the 'poker faces' I keep hearing about."

Ema and Miles passed their hands to Lana and waited for her to shuffle again.

"That was very strange," Lana said. "I didn't expect to see all the high cards in your hands. Maybe I'm not as good at shuffling as I thought…"

"I've seen it happen before," Ema replied. "It's pretty rare, but I'm sure it's a coincidence. I mean, you'd never stack the deck, right?"

"I suppose that's true…"

Lana dealt the cards out again and placed in her ante.

The rest of the game proceeded more slowly, Ema and Miles winning most of the hands and Lana's share of the chips slowly and steadily decreasing. Ema never managed to make up for her losses in the first two hands, though; in the end, Miles won. The night was one of the best Lana had had. She had a lot of fun, as did Ema and Miles. For her, it was a glimpse of things to come. As she and Miles were going to get married, there were going to be plenty of peaceful nights like this.


	34. Part II, Chapter 8: Return of the Truth

**Chapter 8—Return of the Truth**

March 22, 2018

Out of concern for Franziska's mental well-being, Miles decided to visit the United States. As he expected, she greeted him coldly and acted as though she despised him. He knew better, though. In truth, she respected him, but her determination to surpass him made her act as though she viewed him as nothing more than a rival. After all they had been through together, it was foolish to think their bond was any weaker than it was when they were children. In a way, Franziska was closer to Miles than to Therese. Still, despite the closeness of their bond, Franziska, ever adamant about maintaining an air of invincibility, refused Miles's invitation to his wedding. Considering that she might have whipped someone at the ceremony, it might have been better that way.

He ran into Wright during the investigation of Franziska's newest case. He was holding a grudge against Miles, which could explain why he didn't respond to the invitation he sent his way. Franziska was going to be prosecuting Wright's client: Matt Engarde. Miles knew the type—determined to have the entire spotlight, throws anyone in his way into a scandal, treats women as if they're nothing more than points in a game, and sweeps all that under the rug while smiling innocently for the cameras. He had been caught this time, though; the investigation had little—if any—doubt that he had killed his rival, Juan Corrida. Though Franziska would probably win this case, her mission to defeat Wright in court was unhealthy, not to mention misguided. To start, she had become so obsessed with defeating him that, according to Gumshoe, she would willingly tamper with the evidence. More significant, though, was that Franziska had nothing to gain from a guilty verdict; Miles was through walking the path of a von Karma and saw nothing but shame in fighting so selfishly. Still, being the caring "brother" he was, he was on his way to the courthouse to give Franziska his support.

A gunshot rang out, followed by a scream, interrupting Miles's thoughts. He frantically searched for the source of the scream. His eyes suddenly stopped across the street. A young woman had collapsed to the ground, bleeding, a briefcase by her side. Other pedestrians gathered around slowly, all apparently too sure someone else would get help for her to help her on their own. Miles recognized her almost instantly.

"Franziska!" he cried as she struggled to her feet.

Miles wasted no time in running across the street. Someone honked at him for jaywalking, but he ignored it.

"Franziska! Stop!"

Franziska stopped momentarily and turned her head. She had been shot in the right shoulder and was bleeding profusely. She then turned back and continued on her way to the courthouse. Miles shoved his way through the crowd and grabbed her by the left wrist, not stopping to talk as he pulled her in the direction of the hospital.

"Ah!" Franziska yelped, struggling almost instantly. "What do you think you're doing!?" She probably would have whipped Miles, but with her right arm wounded and her left arm held tight, she couldn't. Her voice had more anger in it than that of a cat at the veterinarian's office.

"Taking you to the hospital," Miles replied in a commanding—though clearly worried—tone. As viciously as Franziska tried to wrest her wrist from Miles's grasp, she was unable to prevent herself from getting pulled toward the hospital.

"No! Let me go! I'm fine!"

"No, you're not! You've been shot, for the love of God! You're going to the hospital!"

"I can get by just fine, Miles Edgeworth! Let GO of my wrist!"

"I will not! Don't let your idea of family honor cost you your life! You're bleeding too much!"

"Let me GO!"

"I said no!"

"I'm not some little girl! Stop treating me like I don't know what's best for me!"

"I care about you too much to let you bleed to death when I can save you! You're going to the hospital, you're getting your wound tended to, and you're abandoning the case until you're better!"

"I'll never turn this case over! I'm fine!"

"Stop right there," Miles demanded, still in a commanding voice, but calmer. "You're not fooling me. You're absolutely terrified right now, and that's why I'm here to help. Do what's best for yourself and cooperate. You can whip me for this later."

The argument continued all the way to the emergency room, where two nurses had to literally tie Franziska to a gurney to get her to go with them to have the wound tended to. Miles gave one of the nurses Franziska's briefcase and whip, asking that they be given to her once the operation ended—although he removed the files on the case before handing the briefcase over.

_Of all the absurd things to happen… getting shot on the way to court? Don't worry, Franziska… You're safe now, and I'll make sure your case is seen through to the end. _With Franziska wounded, Miles decided that the case was best handled by him. He knew enough about the situation, and with Wright as the defense attorney, it seemed unlikely that anything would be overlooked.

There was still some time before the trial was to begin—Franziska no doubt wanted to be early so she could prepare her witnesses. This was convenient for Miles, because it gave him time to review Franziska's files, as well as get a sense of her plan for the trial.

* * *

Miles arrived in court just a few minutes after 10:00. He had received a phone call a few minutes earlier saying that Franziska's operation had begun without any complications. While reading Franziska's notes on Ms. Andrews on the way to court, he decided it would be wise to have her ready as a witness for the trial, and, as such, had an officer summon her—though she would not arrive until after the trial had gotten underway. In part, he looked forward to the trial; it was only fitting that Wright, the man who helped him see the error of his earlier methods, would be the one to face him in his first trial back in the United States.

_The Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth of the past is long dead. Today, this court will see the man who has arisen in his place._

Miles walked to the courtroom the trial was scheduled to take place in. He could hear voices coming from inside—the doors were open for some reason.

"M-Ms. Von Karma!" Miles heard Wright's voice cry. "Is she alright!?"

"I don't have that answer!" the judge responded as Miles entered.

"She's alive and in stable condition," Miles said as he walked in. Wright and some woman clad so scantily Miles felt like accusing her of indecent exposure were standing behind the defense bench. Noah Clous was presiding over the case.

"That's good…" the judge said, relieved. "Phew." Miles noticed a look of shock on the judge's face as he noticed Miles. "Y-Y-You're…"

_I guess Judge Clousless believed I really was dead…_

"…Your Honor…" Miles said from near the witness stand, as serious as ever. "Due to the circumstances, Ms. Franziska von Karma can not appear in court today. I, Miles Edgeworth, will be taking her place. The prosecution is ready… naturally."

The gallery murmured as Miles walked to the prosecution bench.

"Ms. von Karma was shot in her right shoulder, and is currently undergoing surgery. Luckily, I have looked this case over and am familiar with the details. The prosecution seeks to prove the guilt of Mr. Matt Engarde."

"Th-The court acknowledges the prosecution," the judge managed to say, still looking as though he was talking to a ghost.

"…Wright," Miles called. "I finally found the answer I was struggling for on my long journey this past year." He did his "evil smile," knowing that finding the same path would be a painful transition for Wright. "By the time this case comes to an end, you too, will know the answer.

"Now then, the prosecution would like to call its first witness… Please bring Detective Gumshoe to the witness stand!"

Gumshoe entered a moment later, dragging his feet. Franziska had called for his dismissal the previous day, and the Chief had agreed to it. In truth, Gumshoe's incompetence had likely earned him three dismissals by that point.

"Witness, your name and occupation," Miles ordered calmly.

"My name's Dick Gumshoe, sir," the detective whimpered. "I'm a detective down at the precinct… for now."

"'For now'…?" the judge repeated.

"After this trial's over… I'm supposed to turn in my badge, sir."

There was a brief pause. _I return after a year for this melodrama?_

"The prosecution has no need for a depressed witness," Miles stated. He struck his desk. "Lift your head up and face forward like a proud officer, Detective Dick Gumshoe!"

"Y-Yes, sir!" Gumshoe answered, revived.

"Now, let's have your testimony. If we want to explore the various facets of this case, we must start with that."

"Get ready, Phoenix," Wright's aide said. "This is going to be one very rough fight."

"Yeah…" Wright replied. "It would have to be with Edgeworth as my opponent."

Miles motioned for Gumshoe to begin his testimony.

"This murder happened after the Hero of Heroes award ceremony, sir," Gumshoe said. "The victim, Juan Corrida, was found dead in his hotel room. After looking into the cause of death, we believe he was definitely murdered, sir. At first, we thought there was something suspicious about the empty guitar case. However, we later found out that the guitar case had nothing to do with the murder."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "After the award ceremony ended, the victim was alone in his room…?"

"Yes, sir! Both the victim and defendant went alone to their rooms, sir."

"I see. Mr. Wright, you may begin your cross-examination."

Wright was handed the transcript.

"Would you please give us a brief timeline of what happened after the ceremony?" he asked.

"OK, pal," Gumshoe answered. "The ceremony started at 6 PM. It ended around 8 PM… and then there was a short break. A special post-ceremony show was supposed to start in the lobby 30 minutes later."

"And that's when the victim's body was found, correct?"

"Which is to say," Miles cut in, "the murder occurred during that thirty minute break period."

"Hmm…" the judge muttered. "Please continue with your testimony, Detective."

"The victim," Gumshoe said, "Juan Corrida, was found dead in his hotel room."

"Hold it!" Wright barked. "The person who discovered the victim's body was Adrian Andrews, correct?"

"…Yeah."

"Who is this 'Adrian Andrews' you're talking about?" the judge asked.

"She's the defendant, Matt Engarde's, manager. She's a really pretty lady… sir."

_I suppose I can admit to agreeing with that…_

"Ah, so she's a pretty lady…" the judge commented. "I wonder if she will grace us with her presence…"

"When the post-ceremony show was about to start, she went to get Mr. Engarde," Gumshoe continued. "After visiting his room, she next went to the victim's room to get him for the show, sir."

"I see… And that's when she found the victim's body…"

"After looking into the cause of death, we believe he was definitely murdered, sir."

"The cause of death…" Wright cut in. "Wasn't that because Mr. Corrida was stabbed in the chest…?"

"Only a careless amateur would believe something so brainless as that, pal," Gumshoe said, taking out a photograph.

_That would explain why you believed it…_

"Take a good, hard look at the crime photo," Gumshoe said. "Now, a real pro's attention would be drawn here, to this bandana."

"Mmm… 'Banana'…" the judge muttered, looking as though he couldn't wait for lunch.

"Um, his 'bandana', sir… That's the thing wrapped tightly around his neck, sir."

"Ah, yes, yes. I see. His banana-scented bandana."

_You may see, though you clearly can't hear…_

"Then, what about the knife…?" Wright asked.

"It seems to have been stuck in the victim's chest on purpose after his death," Gumshoe answered.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "We have a crafty murderer on our hands here."

"At first, we thought there was something suspicious about the empty guitar case," Gumshoe continued.

"And why did you think that?" Wright asked.

"Because it was empty, pal. The Jammin' Ninja doesn't go anywhere without his bright red guitar. And we couldn't find it anywhere at the scene of the crime."

"Oh!" the judge chimed in. "Then how about this theory! A fan really wanted the guitar and did the crime to get it! How's that!?"

_The defendant's Matt Engarde, not some obsessed fan._

"Um, we thought of that too… But…"

"But…?" Wright repeated.

"The only fingerprints on the guitar case were the victim's."

"Only the victim's huh…?"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled, a bit disappointed. "I see. Ah, so much for my theory then…"

"However, we later found out that the guitar case had nothing to do with the murder," Gumshoe said.

"What convinced you it had nothing to do with the case?" Wright asked.

"The guitar wasn't at the Gatewater Hotel that night."

"Well then, where was it?" the judge asked.

"The bright red guitar was eventually found at the TV studio. The victim, Juan Corrida, had apparently only taken the case with him, sir."

"So you mean he forgot to put the guitar inside the case…?"

"Yes, sir. Even when he was onstage for the ceremony, he didn't have his guitar."

"So that guitar case was empty even before he got to the hotel…" Wright muttered.

"Yeah, that's right," Gumshoe replied. "So it really had nothing to do with the case after all."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled.

"I believe that is enough," Miles said. "First, the victim was choked to death with his bandana. Then, after the victim was dead, the killer deliberately stabbed him with a knife."

"Hmm…"

"Which brings me to my next point. Why then, did the police arrest Matt Engarde…? Because there was reason enough to suspect him."

"Very well. Detective Gumshoe, please testify about this matter."

"Yes, sir! Matt Engarde and Juan Corrida were huge rivals with each other. They each thought the other guy was 'in his way'. That's motive enough in my book. As for evidence… There's the Jammin' Ninja's button. It was ripped off of the ninja costume and was found in Mr. Engarde's 'hakama'. The defendant's fingerprints were also all over the knife. The defendant bought the knife for the crime… Which makes this a premeditated murder!"

"Hmm… So the defendant's fingerprints were found on the knife used in the stabbing."

"It was sort of sticky on the handle, so the fingerprints came out pretty clearly, sir," Gumshoe said, holding a bag with the knife in it. "…And there's this button." He held up the button.

"That was found in the defendant's clothes, was it? Hmm… And is this button also covered in blood…?"

"Yes, and we know that the blood on it is the victim's blood, sir."

"What!?" Wright yelped.

_Ah, how I've missed that cold sweat._

"All of this points very clearly to the defendant, doesn't it?" the judge asked.

"Yes, it most certainly does, Your Honor," Miles replied, taking a bow. "Ready to give in yet, Wright?"

"Hmph!" Wright countered. "I'll find the hole in your argument somehow!"

"You can press as hard as you'd like. Just hurry up with your usual pointless questions."

"Grrrrrrrrr…" He looked over the transcript. "Do you have any proof that button belonged to the victim?"

"Huh?" Gumshoe uttered. "I don't get you, pal."

"Oh," Wright mumbled, apparently having forgotten the intellect of this particular witness. "Umm, let me put it this way… I'm asking you if you have any evidence to back up your claim that, "this button was ripped off of the Jammin' Ninja's costume'."

"Huh? But can't you tell by just looking at it?"

Wright didn't respond.

"A-And the victim's blood is on it."

Wright hit his desk. "Anyone could have smeared that blood on there afterward."

"M-M-Mr. Edgeworth… Help me… sir!" Gumshoe whimpered.

_I'm beginning to understand why you were fired._

"…Thread," Miles stated calmly.

"Huh?" Wright asked.

"The button was attached to the costume by thread, obviously. And that thread snapped when the button was torn off. If you match up the ends of the thread on the costume with the thread on the button, it's a perfect match."

"Yeah, that's it!" Gumshoe exclaimed. "They're a perfect match, pal!"

"Urk," Wright groaned, sinking into a cold sweat.

"That's Edgeworth for you," Wright's aide commented. "Never misses a beat."

Wright returned to looking over the transcript, then at the Court Record. After a moment, he struck his desk.

"Wait a second!" he yelled.

"Wh-What?" Gumshoe stammered.

"So the basis of your argument that this was a premeditated murder is simply that my client 'bought a knife beforehand'?"

"That's right, pal. The defendant…"

"Did not buy this knife," Wright interrupted.

"H-Huh!?"

"Take a good look at the handle of this knife, and you'll know what I'm talking about."

Gumshoe was given the knife to look at. "…Huh?"

"It has a 'Gatewater' seal set into the handle…" the judge commented, reading the Court Record.

"'Gatewater'…? I think I've heard that name somewhere before."

"That's the name of the hotel," Wright grumbled. "The Gatewater Hotel."

"…Uh oh."

Wright struck his desk. "The murder knife was actually property of the hotel!" He pointed at Gumshoe, who jumped a bit. "Which means this murder was not premeditated!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"Yes, that is very true!" the judge agreed. "This is a very big…"

"Heh heh heh…" Miles chuckled. _Pathetic…_

"Wh-What is it, Mr. Edgeworth?" the judge asked.

"I'm sorry, but the defense is simply too careless."

"What!?" Wright barked. Miles did his "evil smile."

"I think whether the crime was premeditated or not… has already been determined."

"H-How so!?"

"I admit this knife is hotel property. There is no one currently on the police force that is dumb enough not to realize this."

"…But I didn't kn…" Gumshoe started, but stopped himself upon realizing he was no longer on the force. "Oh…" He whimpered.

"The question is…" Miles struck his desk. "Where did this knife come from?"

"Wh-Why that's obvious!" the judge answered. "It came from the victim, Mr. Corrida's room…"

"Sorry, Your Honor, but that is incorrect," Miles said with a confident shrug. "The victim ate a last meal before he was murdered. With that being the case…" He took out a photograph of the victim's room. "I would like to draw the court's attention to what is on top of the table." The judge was handed the photograph. He took a moment to make out the tiny detail Miles was referring to.

"There is a knife and fork on the table!" he exclaimed. He held up the murder weapon. "Then… Where in the world did this knife come from!?"

Miles smiled again. "If it pleases the court… I would like for us to recall the room of the defendant, Mr. Matt Engarde." He took out another photograph. "Especially what was on top of his table… There is something missing… Perhaps, it is a single knife? We investigated the leftover dishes for fingerprints, and while we were investigating, we came to the conclusion that Mr. Matt Engarde's knife was missing."

"Urk…" Wright groaned, hunched over.

"Mr. Engarde had gone to the victim's room with the knife he had used during dinner. Why would he carry a knife on a visit? To kill, of course. And with that, I believe the prosecution has proven…" He took a bow. "This was a premeditated murder."

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Amazing, Mr. Edgeworth," he said. "Absolutely brilliant. A brilliantly clear deduction."

"It seems like Edgeworth had this planned from the very beginning…" Wright's aide sighed.

The judge banged his gavel. "A murder weapon with fingerprints, and a button from the victim's costume. There is quite a sizable amount of evidence here."

"I can safely say that any further deliberation is a waste of Your Honor's time," Miles said. "Although… I wouldn't mind if the defense were to present evidence not yet shown to the court."

_Though in the end, the verdict will still be the same…_

"He means evidence that the court hasn't seen yet," Wright's aide explained. "In other words, new evidence."

"What does the defense have to say about this, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"Um, well…" Wright stammered.

"Phoenix," the aide said. "The judge is favoring the prosecution right now. If we answer with something wrong here…" She let it trail off.

"Mr. Wright, do you have something important and necessary to present to this court?" the judge asked.

Wright struck his desk, trembling. "There's one…" he started, apparently trying to think as he went.

_One what? One defense attorney stalling for time?_

"One piece of evidence that catches my attention," Wright continued. "Something that this court has yet to see!"

"Mr. Wright," the judge said. "I will say this one more time. I do not feel this trial needs to continue at all. …However, I am giving you one chance… and only one."

"What the judge is saying, Wright," Miles said, "is don't try pulling one of your usual bluffs here."

"You may now present one, and only one piece of evidence. Now then, what is this important evidence that you must show to the court?"

"Take that!" Wright shouted, pulling a picture of a wine glass out of his files.

_The wine glass… It is new evidence, but it's not important._

"This… is a wine glass, is it not?" the judge asked.

"Please look at the photo of the crime scene one more time!" Wright requested. "The scene is a mess because of the victim's struggle against his assailant. The vase was broken, his make-up is all over the floor… These were all things that were at one point, sitting on top of the dresser."

"Hmm… Well, yes, I see your point."

"However! This glass that is sitting on top of the dresser is mysteriously untouched. The only thing that had not fallen over along with everything else is this wine glass!" He pounded on his desk, then pointed at the judge. "This piece of evidence is more than strange enough to warrant further consideration!"

Everyone was silent. _Is that all?_

"W-Well?" Wright begged. "What do you all have to say…?"

"Ah, well, yes, it is a little peculiar…" the judge said.

"Y-Yes, isn't it!? I thought it was!"

"You can stop looking at me with those puppy dog eyes of yours now. Mr. Edgeworth?"

"What is it, Your Honor?" Miles replied.

"Your opinion…"

"…You don't need my opinion. Because there is no special meaning to that glass."

"…What!?" Wright yelped.

Miles shook his head in amusement at Wright's ignorance. "It's safe to say that the glass was set there after the crime took place. By the person who discovered the body, Adrian Andrews, for example. She could have easily been so shocked that she set the glass down without thinking."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "That does sound very plausible. Mr. Wright?"

Wright thought for a moment. He appeared to realize Miles was right.

"You can't think like that, Phoenix," Wright's aide said.

"Mia…" he uttered, confused.

_Must be a coincidence. Even Mia Fey wouldn't dress _that_ lightly—not to mention she's dead._

"Right now," she continued, "you're hanging on by a very thin thread. Anything else you can grab onto right now is better than nothing!"

Wright struck his desk. "The defense would like to challenge the prosecution's theory," he said. "We would like to see something that proves it was Ms. Andrews who set the cup on the table!"

"Hmm…" the judge muttered. "You've turned the situation on its head yet again, as usual."

_The only thing turned on its head was Wright as an infant._

"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge continued. "Do you have any proof to back up your claim?"

Wright looked confident that Miles had nothing.

"Unlike Mr. Wright," Miles said, "I never say anything unless I have the evidence to support it."

"Wh-What!?" Wright gasped. Miles did his "evil smile."

"You're not thinking hard enough today, Wright. Did you think this wine glass escaped my notice?"

"Th-Then…"

"Of course it has been thoroughly inspected… for fingerprints."

"Fingerprints…"

"There were only one set of fingerprints left on this wine glass."

"Only one?" the judge asked. "Well, whose were they!?"

"They were not the victim's nor the defendant's," Miles answered. "Rather, they were of one Adrian Andrews."

"WHAT!?" Wright howled.

"That is why I said that the person who had discovered the body had left it there." He took a bow. "Are we done here, Mr. Wright?"

Wright said nothing, but the sweat running down his face told all. He was kicking himself over falling into another trap.

"Ms. Andrews was probably holding the glass when she went to see Mr. Corrida," Miles continued. "But upon seeing his dead body, she was stunned, and set the glass down on the dresser."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "What you just said makes a lot of sense."

"Tsk tsk tsk… Now do you see, Wright? You can't change any part of my scenario as it explains everything all too well."

"Grrr!" Wright growled.

"I've thought long and hard this past year about what it means to be a 'prosecutor'." He pointed a challenge at Wright. "And from here on out, I will show you the answer I have come to discover!"

"W-Wait a second…" the judge interrupted. "Mr. Edgeworth! I think the prosecution has provided enough evidence for me to enter my verdict…"

Miles shook his head. _The whole truth has yet to make itself clear, Your Honor. There will be no verdict until it does._ "Unfortunately," Miles said, "I can not allow you to pass judgment yet. The prosecution has yet another witness we would like the court to hear from."

"'Another witness'…?" Wright repeated.

"Yes. Bailiff! Please bring in the next witness!"

"What in the world is Mr. Edgeworth thinking?" Wright's aide muttered.

An elderly person in an outfit that looked like something out of a cheap space-themed movie approached the stand. She was wearing a tinted fishbowl over her head, making it impossible to see her face. According to the report, it was the annoying security guard from the Steel Samurai case.

"Now then, witness," Miles said, "please state your name and occupation…"

The witness didn't respond. Miles struck his desk.

"Witness! Your name and occupation, please!"

He was interrupted by the sound of a cheap toy ray gun firing.

"Uurrngh!" he roared, hunching over his desk.

"…Heh," the witness chuckled, taking off her helmet. "G.O.T.C.H.A!"

"Grrrrrrrrr…"

"Oh, Edgey-boy! It's been what, a year since we last met, hasn't it? You should be more happy to see me!"

_If I weren't worried she'd refuse to testify if I did so, I'd tell her I'm engaged just to shut her up…_ "I saw the report with her testimony, but who knew that under that helmet… it was the wicked witch of the witness stand!?"

"I tell you, this time I know what I'm supposed to do! So today, I'm going to tell you anything and everything! Even things that don't have to do with that terrible crime."

"Ms… Witness…" the judge managed to say. "'That terrible crime' is all this court needs to know."

Oldbag "fired" her ray gun. _That device is more annoying than the sound of Ema munching on that snack food she's been eating lately…_

"Oof!" the judge blurted.

"Shush!" Oldbag demanded. "I'm talking to my dear Edgey-Wedgey right now! Don't interrupt us, gramps!"

"Yes, madam."

"No no no," Miles growled, "please, by all means interrupt her! Please!" He cleared his throat and straightened up. "Anyway, witness, your testimony please."

"It's true what they say that youth are hotheaded nowadays," Oldbag said, trying to flirt. "Not that I mind at all, Edgey. Now then, what should I start with…?"

"The witness was on security detail at the hotel on the night of the murder. Is this correct, Ms. Oldbag?"

"It was a great job being able to see my dearie Juan! It was almost too much for my little heart to handle!"

"You mean…" the judge trailed off. "You were a fan of the victim?"

"Look, everyone is crazy over that Engarde, saying he's cute in a fresh way, or something. But not me! I wouldn't say anything so silly. After all, I have no interest in a little child like him."

_And yet you are infatuated with someone two months younger than him…_

"I'm only interested in a real man: Juan Corrida!"

_And because I'm only interested in a real lady, you'll only be dating _me_ in your dreams._

"AAnnyywwaayy, aass II wwaass ssaayyiinngg, II wwaass ppaacciinngg iinn ffrroonntt ooff hhiiss rroomm tthhaatt nniigghhtt."

"Vveerryy wweellll," Miles replied, imitating Oldbag's intentionally slow speech. "Please tell the court what you witnessed the night of the murder."

"Leave it to me, Edgey-poo! Anyway, after the ceremony, I went to pace around in the hallway in front of his room. There was something I was interested in finding out, you know… Well, since I was on the job, I made sure to keep a good eye out the whole time. That's when someone showed up! It was a man coming out of poor Juan's room. It was Engarde. Matt Engarde. He was trying to sneak his way out of Juan's room!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "So Mr. Engarde came out from the victim's room…"

"See!" Oldbag squawked. "It has to be him! He's the murderer!"

_I don't doubt that, but our proof still isn't decisive._

"I see," the judge said. "Well, Mr. Wright. You may begin your cross-examination."

"Ms. Oldbag," Wright started, "what was your post on that night?"

"The lobby," Oldbag replied. "I was supposed to help set up the stage for that trifling show. But I refused to help, I'll have you know. It was for that Lead-headed Samurai's show. Heh, I even took out a few of the nails."

_In that case, maybe it's better that the show was cancelled…_

"Besides," she continued, "that manager with the glasses seemed to be working hard at it without me. So I thought I'd take a break and spread my wings a little."

"And that's when you went to hang around the victim's door?"

"There was something I was interested in finding out, you know…"

"Something you were 'interested' in? And just what was that?"

"It's not some little thing I can just go around telling everyone, you know. It's top secret, between me and Juan. Ah, and Edgey, of course."

"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge cut in. "What is this thing she was 'interested' in…?"

_Probably that fallacious article…_ "I have no idea," Miles said. "I despise gossip, Your Honor." He looked to the witness. "If this has something to do with the case, then you can append it to your testimony."

"It looks like we shouldn't force it right now," Mia said to Wright.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "And did the witness stay in the vicinity of the victim's door the entire time?"

"Well," Oldbag replied, "since I was on the job, I made sure to keep a good eye out the whole time."

"Oh?" Wright asked. "Then would you tell us the number of people who went in and out of Mr. Corrida's room?"

"I have no idea! I wasn't born so I could count things for those who didn't pay attention in class! That's why ever since I turned 20, I quit keeping track of how old I really am!"

"…Yes, well, that would explain why your age was not recorded in the report," the judge commented.

_Technically, her age is known, though the nitwit who typed up the report must have forgotten to add it._

"In any case…" Miles said. "The witness then saw someone, correct?"

"That's when someone showed up!" Oldbag agreed. "It was a man coming out of poor Juan's room."

Wright struck his desk. "Who in the world was that!?" he asked.

_Who do you think?_

"I'm not allowed to say!" Oldbage replied.

_What do you mean "not allowed to say!?" You just testified earlier that it was Engarde!_

"This sort of information has to be carefully guarded from the masses, sonny," she continued. "The man that came out of Juan's room…" She paused. "It was…" She paused again, more hesitance in her voice. "He was…"

"Yes…?" the judge asked, apparently not recalling the testimony. "He was…?"

"…Ah! I'm too scared! I can't say his name out loud!"

_Perhaps I should have taken Franziska's whip with me…_

"Well, I guess I can tell you, since he was such a bad boy anyway," Oldbag continued. "It was Engarde. Matt Engarde. He was trying to sneak his way out of Juan's room!"

"Hold it!" Wright yelled. "You saw my client!? Are you sure about that!?"

"Yessey!"

"Really?"

"Annoying brat! When I say I saw someone, I saw that person!"

_I suppose that works just as well as objecting to badgering…_

"Please tell the court about the man's clothes in more detail!" Wright demanded.

"What a troublesome man you are," Oldbag replied. "Really, as if something like that matters."

"But it does," Wright muttered.

_Thinking back… I'll let this go._

"Um… Now what was it… Oh, yes, it was that thing," Oldbag said, trying to remember.

"What thing?" Wright asked.

"That gaudy thing he's always wearing. That racing jacket. That thing's meant for nothing but seducing women out of their pantaloons! Hmph! Men!!"

_Great… Her memory's mistaken. Knowing Wright, he'll ask for it to be added to the testimony, then object if he sees the problem._

"Um, right…" Wright commented.

"So, Mr. Wright," the judge called. "Was this testimony just now important or relevant in any way?"

"Hmm…" He pounded on his desk. "Of course it was important, Your Honor!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "Then perhaps you would like to point out what part of that testimony was important!"

"Don't you see it, Edgeworth?" Wright taunted.

_I do, but the question is do you?_

"Your Honor!" Wright shouted, pointing. "I request what the witness said about the jacket be appended to her testimony."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I don't quite see where you're going with this, but alright. Witness, please…"

"Ah well," Oldbag sighed, "I don't like to bad-mouth anyone without reason, but if I must… He was wearing his flashy racing jacket. Honestly, it's all just for show."

"Objection!" Wright yelled, pointing at the witness. "Ms. Oldbag…"

"What!?" she snapped. "Don't say my name for no reason!"

"Do you know what this is?" Wright asked, indicating the button.

"Aaaah! It's button number 2 on the Jammin' Ninja's costume!"

_Sad…_

"Give it here!" she yammered. "Give it here! If you don't give it to me, I'll punish you with this!" She fired her ray gun.

"This button was discovered on Mr. Engarde's body during a full body search," Wright said.

"See! See! This button proves beyond a shadow of a doubt it was that rascal Engarde!"

"It was caught up in the pleats of his Nickel Samurai hakama pants."

"See! See! And Engarde is the Nickel Samurai!"

Wright hit his desk. "…Witness! Now, it may just be me, and I do have an active imagination, but just now, didn't you say that the defendant… Matt Engarde was wearing his 'usual racing jacket'!?"

Oldbag didn't respond for a moment.

"…Ah…" she finally said. "I'm so sorry." She paused. "Sorry that you judge people based on what they wear!" she snapped. "If I wore the trendiest dress, then maybe you'd think I was the most gorgeous woman ever! But instead, I have to put up with wearing this ridiculous-looking outfit. You'd agree this outfit is hideous, right? I've got a tape recorder stuck on my chest! Lemme tell you, it's HEAVY! So heavy, I wish we would have switched to CDs ages ago! But I'm keeping that dream alive for all those kids out there, I work hard with a smile on my face, don't you understand!? Now, take a look in the mirror. Your clothes are about as interesting as a documentary on curling! You should take a tip or ten from Edgey-poo. Now HE'S got style!"

She fired her gun.

The judge banged his gavel. "Now hold your tongue still there for one second!" he commanded. "So what you saw in actuality, was not Mr. Engarde, the man… but Mr. Engarde, the Nickel Samurai!?"

"But when you think about it…" Oldbag started, cut off by the gallery's chatter. The judge banged his gavel. "They're really one and the same anyway…"

Wright pounded on his desk. "Ms Oldbag!" he yelled. "This is a very important point we're talking about!"

"Edgey-poo! Do you think so too?"

_This is too familiar for comfort…_ "Well," Miles replied, "it might be something worth thinking about."

"Just say, 'It's important' and agree with me for a change!" Wright complained. The judge pounded his gavel.

"Witness!" he called. "Think carefully and try to remember as much as you can before you testify!"

Oldbag sighed. "Alright, if you insist."

_It's the court that should be sighing, not you._

"Engarde… Engarde… Yes, now I remember! The Nickel Samurai, that's right, it was the Nickel Samurai that I saw! Yes, it would have been convenient for him to wear his costume during the murder. He had to go to that post-ceremony stage show right after the crime, you know. So he must've worn that Nickel Samurai costume when he was stabbing poor Juan."

Oldbag stopped, having nothing more to add for the time being. Wright was in his usual position—slumped over, his teeth gritted, and a cold sweat running down his face.

"I… I knew it…" Wright murmured. He then pounded on his desk. "I knew you'd say he was inside that costume!"

"What?" Oldbag replied. "Do you think there could've been someone else inside that costume? Don't be a bad little boy, thinking such rude things."

"But… But the possibility does exist!"

"Ah, young'uns today. I told you, there is no way it was anyone else."

"H-How do you know that?" the judge asked.

"Because… I said so. And what I say is the truth."

_How my father was able to deal with cross-examining people like this is beyond me…_

"Mr. Wright," the judge said. "You may cross-examine the witness."

Wright looked over the transcript. "Be a little more careful with your testimony, please!" he shouted at Oldbag. "Not too long ago, you said he was wearing his 'racing jacket,' and now he's not!?"

"'Not too long ago'…?" Oldbag replied. "Then let me ask you this! When you were itty-bitty, what was your grand dream?"

_How is this relevant?_

"…Huh?"

"What did you want to be when you grew up, whippersnapper!?"

"My dream, huh…? Well, I… uh, wanted to be Judge Wackner, hero of the Public's Court. So what!?"

_If it weren't for Oldbag being here, I'd laugh._

"See!" Oldbag snapped. "And look at where you are now! You're not Judge Wackner, are you!? Are you!?"

"Well…"

"'What I said earlier…' Who puts any weight into things like that!?"

_With the exception of you, I can't name anyone who doesn't._

"The 'now' is everything! I can't be held responsible for the 'past'!"

_What are you, a politician trying to deny involvement in a scandal?_

"All that matters is that man was inside that costume. Isn't that enough!?"

Annoyed, Wright looked over the testimony again.

"Please take a look at this," he said, indicating the knife.

"Yeah, so, it's a knife," Oldbag responded. "Big deal. If you're trying to scare me with that, I'll have you know it won't work!"

"No no, that's not my intention at all…"

"That's the knife that was used in the murder, correct?" the judge asked.

"Your Honor. Do you remember why this piece of evidence is important to this case?"

"You don't even have to ask. It's because the defendant's fingerprints are on it."

_Right. The Nickel Samurai wears gloves. That will be a pain to explain away…_

"Is that what you're driving at…?" Miles asked.

"That is exactly what I am driving at."

"What are we driving at?" the judge demanded. "And whose car are we driving?"

_I almost missed his misinterpretations… Almost._

"If Mr. Engarde was really in the Nickel Samurai costume at the time of the murder," Wright explained, pausing to hit his desk, "then it's impossible for his fingerprints to have been left on this knife! Actually, he would have wiped all previous fingerprints on this knife right off!"

The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"Oh, that's right!" he exclaimed. "The Nickel Samurai wears gloves, doesn't he?"

"Objection!" Miles shouted, striking his desk. "He probably took his gloves off before he began the stabbing!"

"Objection!" Wright countered. "And why would he do something like that? To leave his prints on the murder weapon?" He beat his desk. "There is no way he would do something like that!"

"However, there is one possibility!"

"Then let's hear your 'possibility'!"

"It's very simple. The defendant went to the victim's room while in costume as the Nickel Samurai. At that time, the defendant held no intent to murder. He was probably just going to relax and talk with the victim about the stage show." He hit his desk. "Which is why he took his gloves off!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "But the murder still did take place…"

"It's well known that the defendant and the victim had bad blood between them," Miles continued.

"Hmm, yes…" the judge agreed. "I have heard of that… Well, Mr. Wright? What do you have to say about Mr. Edgeworth's theory…?"

Wright took a moment, but pounded on his desk moments later. "This theory contradicts something in an earlier testimony!" he shouted.

"Wh-What are you babbling about…?" Miles asked.

"Now, for argument's sake, let's suppose Mr. Engarde was the killer. If that's the case, I think it's impossible for the killer to have gone to the victim's room without intent!" He indicated the knife. "This knife. This was used by Mr. Engarde at dinner."

"Y-Yes, we did establish that," the judge said.

"Which means that if my client was, in fact, the killer… Then he brought this knife with him when he went to visit Mr. Corrida."

"I suppose…" Miles agreed.

"However, you just said it yourself. 'At that time, the defendant held no intent to murder.'" Wright struck his desk. "If that were true, then why would he bring a knife!? He wouldn't, would he!?"

"Hmm…" _I can't believe I missed something so obvious…_

Wright hit his desk again. "Which means, Mr. Edgeworth, your theory was flawed from supposition one!"

The gallery began chattering.

"And one more thing!" Wright added over the chatter. "If the murderer was wearing the costume at the time of the murder… Then there should be glove marks left on the knife!" He hit his desk yet again. "Which means the defendant's fingerprints shouldn't be all over it like bees on a hive!"

_Wait… Thinking about it, why should—_

"And that brings me to my final point…" Wright continued, interrupting Miles's thoughts. "This knife was planted by the real killer to hide their identity and mislead us!"

The gallery by now was yammering loudly enough to make the judge bang his gavel.

"O-Order!" he yelled. "Order, I say! Order in the court!!" He indicated the knife. "Was this knife really planted by the killer!? Why would the murderer do such a thing!?"

_Technically, the knife says nothing about the killer, since Corrida was stabbed after—_

"It's to frame my client, Mr. Engarde, of course!" Wright responded to the judge's question.

"To frame…"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted, beating his desk. "A-Aren't you forcing the interpretation just a little too hard on this one!?"

"Objection!" Wright shouted back, hitting his desk harder. "But we just established that the witness saw the 'Nickel Samurai' in costume, and if that were true, then there shouldn't be a single fingerprint on this knife!"

"Grrrrrrrrr!" Miles growled. _I thought it was important, but it's just a triviality that gave the defense an opening… And it's all thanks to this blasted witness!_ "Witneeeeeesssssss!!" _It's amazing that no one's killed her for being such a nuisance…_

"…Looks like I've made your life a tiny bit more difficult, huh Edgey…?" Oldbag teased.

"Gnnnnngh…" _Maybe it's better that Franziska's not prosecuting. She might accidentally kill the witness by whipping her too much…_

"Witness, did you or did you not really see the Nickel Samurai?" the judge asked, his tone of voice making it clear he was getting annoyed, too.

"Well," Oldbag answered," I guess at first I might have forgotten, but…"

"Are you saying you mixed up Mr. Engarde with the Nickel Samurai, his character on TV!?" Wright asked.

"But I mean, I can't really do anything about that!" Oldbag snapped. "Look, I was waiting around in front of their doors because, well… Well, I wasn't waiting around for the Nickel Samurai, that's for sure!"

Wright looked surprised.

_It goes without saying that she wasn't waiting for Engarde._

"Alright then…" Wright said. "Who were you waiting around for then?"

Oldbag was silent for a moment.

_Come now, it's not exactly nuclear chemistry._

"Hmph!" Oldbag grunted. "That's top secret to anyone outside of security!"

"I have a feeling that you were waiting for Mr. Juan Corrida," the judge said. "Am I correct, witness?"

"Ha ha ha. The way you think, you are a sad amateur with a terrible case of near-sightedness."

"Amateur…? Me…? What am I an amateur of…?"

_It appears Franziska was right on the dot here. I just wish I had arrived early enough to discuss with Ms. Andrews what she saw. Franziska's notes were somewhat ambiguous…_

"Maybe… Phoenix!" Mia whispered. "Maybe the old bag was waiting around for 'that' person!"

Wright paused to take in the hint. "Ms. Oldbag," he called, digging through his files to get a photograph. "You were waiting for this person to come out of the victim's room, weren't you?"

_You could just say her name rather than waste your time on a picture. Then again, you did that a year ago, too, if I recall correctly. Anything to get a chance to present something, am I right?_ Miles opened up his binder and flipped to the evidence section.

"Take that!" Wright yelled, taking out Ms. Andrews's photo.

"Who is this person…?" the judge asked.

"This is Adrian Andrews, Mr. Engarde's manager," Wright replied.

"B-But why would the defendant's manager be in the victim's room…?"

"It seems that this is the latest rumor in circulation, Your Honor," Miles stated, taking out a tabloid article. The bailiff handed it to the judge, who looked over it intently after reading a bit.

"…Hmm… Oh… This is… Well, this is… Hmm, hmm… Hah, I see…"

_I never would have expected the judge to be interested in celebrity gossip… Political scandals, definitely, but not celebrities…_

"Then this manager with the initials A. A.…" the judge said, pausing his "examination" of the article. "Are you saying it's…?"

"Adrian Andrews," Miles finished. "Without a doubt, the witness thought so as well."

_I'm not surprised by Ms. Oldbag's interest in celebrity gossip, though._

"…Hmph," Oldbag grunted. "Looks like you found me out. Well, that's fine. I can throw away this whole sworn to confidentiality stuff."

"W-Witness…?" the judge stammered. "What in the world are you…"

"Watch out, Phoenix," Mia said. "I've got a bad feeling about this… A very bad feeling."

"I got some information…" Oldbag said, her tone of voice indicating she was going to enjoy teasing the court with said information. "Some very secret information from a certain source. So that's why I was doing my own little investigation… In secret, of course."

"B-But what for…?" the judge asked.

"Oh, just for myself… Personal reasons and all that."

The judge was silent.

_I guess Ms. Andrews's testimony will have to wait until after this fly is swatted. Hopefully, she'll land soon._

"Well, Mr. Edgeworth," the judge finally said. "How will you proceed from here?"

"I really don't want to do this," Miles answered, "however I cannot simply let this point slide."

"I see. Very well then. Witness, please testify about this 'secret information'."

"Get ready," Oldbag said. She then started firing her ray gun. "This is going to take the wind out of you young'uns!"

_I've learned that my mentor killed my father. I assure you, whatever you have to say is nothing in comparison, no matter how shocking._

"That Engarde is one evil, evil man!" Oldbag spouted. "He thought he could ruin poor Juan by causing a huge scandal! So to do that, he sent his own manager to get in close with Juan! I cannot condone such dirty tricks! So I took action! …Oh, and this is top secret, you got that!? Nobody else but you and me know yet, OK?"

"The defendant sent his manager…?" the judge exclaimed. "What a distasteful topic for this court!"

"What!?" Oldbag snapped. "Nobody's above gossip! And isn't there a saying!? 'The truth is never pleasant.'"

_It's certainly more pleasant than you are._

"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge called. "What about this Adrian Andrews person…?"

"We have looked into the matter," Miles replied, "and found that the 'truth' the article proposes is, in fact, baseless gossip."

"Hmm… But should this be true… Then this proves that the defendant did bear ill-will towards the victim. Now then, Mr. Wright. You may cross-examine the witness."

"Be careful," Mia warned Wright. "The old bag seems rather excited right now."

"That's right!" Oldbag yelled. "Engarde is nothing but your average foul-blooded youth!"

_Ironic that someone who despises young people so much tends to get infatuated with young men on a regular basis._

Wright examined the testimony. He read over it a few times, no doubt answering some of the questions for himself. He then put the testimony down.

"Wait!" he yelled out of the blue.

"What!? Oldbag demanded. "I'm a busy woman! Tea time with the kids is over!"

"Secret information that no one else knows yet…" He paused to bang on his desk. "If that's true, then how do you know this 'secret information'!?"

"Huh!? Well… That's… because I'm a pro… Yes, that's it…"

_Only Gumshoe would be stupid enough to buy that… and possibly Larry…_

Wright didn't respond, just glaring at the witness.

"I-It's a secret!" Oldbag snapped. "Even if you drill a hole into my brain, you'll never find out!"

Wright paused, thinking. "So no one else is supposed to know this 'secret information', correct? If that's true, then why do you know it, Ms. Oldbag…?"

_I know that look. He's going to present evidence._

"Wh-Wh-Why are you looking at me like that…?" Oldbag stuttered. "Stop that!"

"Witness!" Wright barked, pointing at the old crone. "I'm sad to say it, but this is how you found out this secret, isn't it!?" He took out a file and started flicking it. "The 'investigative photographer', Lotta Hart…"

"Oh yes…" the judge recalled. "I remember that mischievous girl."

…_Right. The girl who photographed Yogi framing me…_

"She reported that she had lost a certain note she had written to herself," Wright continued.

"She reported such a thing…?" the judge asked.

"On that piece of paper, she had written some of her outrageo… er, impressions about the relationship between the victim and Ms. Andrews."

"Wh-What!?" Oldbag exploded. "Outrageous ideas, you say!?"

"No no no, I said impressions," Wright responded, trying to cover his mistake.

"Then… Then…!" She took a piece of paper out from behind the "machine" on the front of her uniform. "Then everything written on this piece of paper is completely meaningless!"

"Ah! That's it! That's the note!"

"Ah! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! Noooo! You see, this is some-thing completely different! This is my top secret list of groceries to buyyyyyyy!!"

It was clear from the expressions on the faces of the gallery that no one believed her.

"Hmm, then you are the one who took Ms. Hart's note?" the judge asked.

"I'm a huuuuuuuge fan of Juan's, that's why! That infamous, puffy-haired whippersnapper… She's working with that evil Engarde! She said so herself! 'En garde! I'm his sidekick!' She was so happy, smiling like a silly duck. I was only checking what she had written!"

The courtroom, again, was silent.

…_I'm so worried about what she'll start raving about next that I don't want to speak…_

"Edgey-poo!" Oldbag sputtered upon realizing she was on the spot. "You believe me, don't you!?"

"Nngh…" Miles grunted as he hunched forward over his desk. _Like nitrogen triiodide, the slightest touch sets her off…_

"I was only trying to help out like the angel I am!"

_The only angel you could be is Lucifer…_

"It's only one little piece of paper!" Oldbag continued. "I've never taken anything else before!"

"You really should come with a supply of cheese to match your vintage whine."

"Well, it was only a piece of paper," the judge admitted. "I suppose we can overlook this just this once."

_How did we even get to this point? Is it even relevant? Oldbag was waiting for evidence of a scandal. What matters is that—_

Wright hit his desk, interrupting Miles's thoughts.

"Witness!" he yelled. "You said that the only thing you stole was that note. Is this correct?"

"S-S-Stole!?" Oldbag hissed. "Why don't you listen more carefully, you annoying brat!? I saved this piece of paper from the terrible, lonely trash can! That's all!"

"You're lying, dammit! And I can prove it!!"

"Are you putting my credibility under scrutiny again!?"

_Are you even credible to begin with!?_

"Ms. Oldbag!" Wright called. "I don't believe that the note is the only thing you stole that night!" He pounded on his desk. "Ms. Oldbag! That note was with a camera, inside its case, wasn't it?"

"A camera…?" the judge asked.

"Yesterday, Lotta Hart was raising a huge stink over her camera. She kept saying something like, 'My sweetie $1,600 camera disappeared on me!'"

"Why… Why… Witness!!"

"What is it, gramps?" Oldbag asked.

Wright hit his desk again. "If you have the note," he explained, "then it is only logical that you have the camera too!"

"Grr… Looks like you found me out again, sonny…" She took out an expensive-looking camera. "Is this the camera you're looking for?"

_Forget getting her to leave me alone… It's tempting to tell her I'm engaged just to see her suffer…_

Miles noticed Wright didn't look any happier about the mischievous old fly.

"Ah, that's…!" Wright trailed off.

"What!?" Oldbag snapped. "Even though I look like this, I'm still a person, you know! I still eat meals like you, I fall in love… and 'borrow' things from people!"

"Um…" the judge mumbled. "I think your definition of 'borrow' is a bit off…"

"I saw that woman's business card and that's when I noticed it said, 'Slimebag Celebrity Photographer Extraordinaire'! Well, when I saw that, I had to know what sort of pictures she had taken! I'm a professional security guard! It's my business to know these things!"

_You sure don't act professional…_

The judge banged his gavel in response to the gallery's noise.

"Bailiff!" he called. "Check this camera's photos. Hurry! We must examine them at once!"

The bailiff took the camera off to have the photographs printed out.

* * *

After a brief wait, Miles was handed the printed photographs. He flipped through them, many of them black-and-white photos of the various stars that were at the show.

_Hard to believe such an expensive camera doesn't produce color photos…_

He stopped at one of them. It was of what appeared to be the Nickel Samurai leaving the victim's room.

_Funny… I could have sworn the defendant was taller than this. I'm sure Wright will bring that up…_

Miles continued going through them. After reaching the end, he put the irrelevant photos aside, leaving only the Nickel Samurai picture.

"Well, Mr. Edgeworth…" the judge said. "What do we have?"

"There is only one photo that seems to be relevant to this case," Miles said, holding the photo.

"Please present it to the court!" the judge demanded. Miles handed the photo to the bailiff, who handed it over to the judge. "Th-This is… This is the Nickel Samurai!"

"See, I told you!" Oldbag yowled. "That's the guy I saw!"

"This proves that the witness was not lying earlier about this matter."

"Wh-What does all this mean, Mr. Edgeworth!?" the judge asked.

"This photo by itself does not prove that the person in it is the defendant," Miles admitted, holding the photograph. "However! In his own confession, Mr. Engarde clearly stated that…" He paused to hit his desk. "At the time of the murder, he was still in his Nickel Samurai costume!" The bailiff took the photo and placed it among the rest of the evidence.

"If that is the case, then… this Nickel Samurai is…"

Miles did his "evil smile." "The defendant," he finished.

The gallery started up. The judge whacked his gavel. "How did it come to this…?" he sighed. "I think this brings us to the end. We have examined every piece of evidence thoroughly. Final comments, Mr. Wright? The court will consider them before we close. Do you agree that this photo is decisive evidence against your client?"

Wright paused, clearly thinking. It was obvious that he was trying to find a problem. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

"This photo that Lotta took…" he said. "There's…"

"_something strange with it."_

Wright pounded on his desk. "There's… There's something strange with this photo!"

"I knew this was coming, Wright," Miles said, doing his "evil smile."

"Your thoughts, Mr. Edgeworth?" the judge asked.

"I think we can all agree there is nothing strange with this photo. There is no way for the defense to debunk this photo, even with a bunker buster."

"'Debunk with a bunker buster'!? Is that what you're planning to do, Mr. Wright!?"

Wright paused, then struck his desk. "Um, anyway, please look at the photo one more time!"

"If you really believe you can honestly find something wrong with this photo," the judge started, "then you should only need one chance, correct…?"

"Um… Well…"

_I knew it. You're just stalling until you actually find a problem._

Wright looked intensely at the photo. The judge banged his gavel after a moment.

"Now then, let's hear your objection," he said. "What about this photo is 'strange'…?"

Wright apparently saw the problem, because he seemed to regain all his gusto and pointed at the Nickel Samurai's ankles in the picture.

"I would like to direct the court's attention to this one area right here!"

"Wh-What are you pointing to?" the judge asked, trying to see. "His ankles…?"

"If you could see this person's ankle, that would be one thing… However you can't."

"A-And…? What does that mean…?"

"The 'Nickel Samurai' in this photo could not have been Mr. Engarde!"

"What is the meaning of this!?"

"Objection!" Miles shouted, hitting his desk. "I wonder if you would care to elaborate… With actual facts, that is."

"Let's take a look at the Nickel Samurai's poster," Wright began, taking out a promotional poster. "Please pay particular attention to the area around the bottom of the hakama."

"His… His socks…" the judge commented. "You can see his socks…"

Wright nodded. "Exactly! However, in this photo… the Nickel Samurai is clearly holding up his hakama just to walk!"

_And I think I can see what your conclusion is._

Wright pounded on his desk. "There is only one explanation for this!" he almost shouted. "The person inside this costume is clearly much shorter than the defendant!"

The gallery began yammering. The judge silenced them with three whacks of his gavel.

_At last we arrive at the real fight… You've done well, Wright, but this is far from over._

"That's curious…" Mia commented.

"Huh?" Wright yapped. "What is?"

"Edgeworth is unusually calm today…"

"That's true…"

_Catching on, are we?_

"He's just letting the trial run itself; as if he's only along for the ride," Mia continued.

"'Along for the ride'…? What do you mean by that?"

"I can only think that perhaps he doesn't feel under attack at all…"

The judge banged his gavel.

"Mr. Edgeworth!" he called. "Where does this leave us!?"

_At a clear problem—one that will be solved today._

"If the person in this photo is not Matt Engarde… then everything the prosecution has tried to prove has become meaningless!"

The gallery started up.

_Ha. I had forgotten how it felt to have the entire court's eyes on me…_

"Hmm…" Miles sighed. "I thought it would come to this."

"WHAT!?" Wright yelped.

"Wright. I have something I want to ask you. I think you have proven that the person inside this costume is not Matt Engarde. In that case… who IS this a photo of…?"

_Though I'm sure you already have an answer for us._

"Don't stress out over this, Phoenix," Mia said. "It's very simple." She turned to face Miles, who ignored her stare. "What you should be focused on is Edgeworth's attitude, don't you think?"

Wright followed Mia's gaze.

_Well?_

"Mr. Wright," the judge called. "Let's hear your thoughts. Who is the person in this photograph…?"

"Take that!" Wright yelled, holding Ms. Andrews's photograph.

_Is it that hard to say a name, Wright?_

"A-Adrian Andrews…?" the judge stammered.

"If you want to know who that Nickel Samurai is, it is none other than this woman!"

"And why would you say it would be Ms. Andrews!?" Miles demanded. "What in the world points you to her?"

"For starters, she's short. And, she can freely move in and out of Mr. Engarde's room. Finally, she had dinner with Mr. Engarde that night."

"And how does that all add up?" the judge asked.

"It means that it makes it very easy for her to get a certain item. …A certain knife with Mr. Engarde's fingerprints all over it!"

"The knife that was used as a murder weapon!"

"Why don't you just say what it is you want, Wright?" Miles asked, impatient.

Wright pounded on his desk.

"The defense motions to indict Ms. Adrian Andrews in the murder of Juan Corrida! It was Ms. Andrews who tried to frame the defendant for the crime!"

The gallery began murmuring, not stopping until the judge banged his gavel.

"Order! Order!! ORDER!!" he bellowed. "It looks like this trial has hit a most unexpected development! Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Yes, Your Honor?" Miles answered.

"This court is issuing a subpoena for Ms. Adrian Andrews! A verdict cannot be passed without first hearing her testimony!"

_And now the real fight begins. I suppose I should be glad the person on this case before me was Franziska; someone like Payne probably wouldn't have seen this coming._

"This… is kind of bad for us," Mia said.

"Huh?" Wright murmured. "What do you mean?"

"If Adrian Andrews is summoned to court as a witness… It means that the trial will go on for another day."

"One more day…? Ack!!"

_Why on earth is an extension a problem? Not that it matters; Ms. Andrews is ready to be summoned any time._

The judge banged his gavel. "Now then," he said, "we shall set Ms. Andrews' testimony for tomorrow…" He banged his gavel again. "Now then…"

"Objection!" Wright interrupted, slamming his desk. "Please, Your Honor! Continue the trial! You must pass a verdict today!"

_He must have a flight leaving tomorrow or something. Poor fellow._

"I can't do that," the judge replied. "We cannot hear Ms. Andrews' testimony if she is not—"

"Hold it!" Miles interrupted. All eyes were on him. "I abhor wasting such valuable time…"

"E-Edgeworth?" Wright yowled, confused.

"Your Honor," Miles called to the judge. "I request that you please continue with today's trial."

"B-But…" the judge stuttered. "We cannot continue due to this unexpected development!"

"Tsk, tsk. 'Unexpected' development? I think you underestimate me, Your Honor."

"And what do you mean by that…?"

"That Mr. Wright would slave his way to subpoenaing Ms. Adrian Andrews is all happening according to plan… Even if Wright was a bit slow to catch on…"

"Wh-Wh-Wh…" Wright stammered, a cold sweat flowing down his face. "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?"

The gallery, just as surprised as Wright, started chattering. The judge, the look on his face indicating that he, too, was surprised, banged his gavel.

"What is the meaning of your statement, Mr. Edgeworth!?" the judge asked.

"Ms. Adrian Andrews is currently waiting in the prosecution lobby…" Miles replied. He shook his head in amusement and shrugged. "She is the next witness."

"Somehow, I knew there was no way Edgeworth would overlook Ms. Andrews…" Mia commented. "Looks like this battle is far from over."

"Exactly," Miles responded, taking a bow.

The judge banged his gavel. "Very well," he said. "We will call the next witness. However… Before we proceed, we shall take a 10 minute recess. Please prepare your witness in that time, Mr. Edgeworth."

_I had no intent to do anything else, considering that I have yet to even speak to her._

"The court will now take a 10 minute recess," the judge announced, subsequently banging his gavel.

* * *

"Edgey-poo!" Oldbag called as Miles walked toward the prosecution lobby. Miles sighed in annoyance as he heard the sound of her running to catch up to him. "I was so worried about you! I had heard from that pretentious young upstart with the whip that you were dead! Do you have any idea what it's like to lose someone you love? Why, I still remember when my big sister bought the farm. She was always fawning over this guy she'd never get, and let me tell you, I always told her she wasn't going to get him, but of course she—"

"Ms. Oldbag," Miles interrupted. "You're no longer needed."

"Oh, but I wanted to see you teach that spiky-headed whippersnapper and that immodest girl next to him a—"

"You are free to watch from the gallery if you're that insistent, but I have a witness to prepare and would rather not have any distractions."

"Don't worry about that silly manager girl; she's smart enough to—"

"Please leave me."

"Never! You're mine for—"

"Could you please escort this woman out of this area?" Miles asked the officer near the lobby entrance.

"Yes, sir," the officer replied, saluting. Oldbag complained and struggled, but Miles didn't listen to her rant as he entered. As he expected, Ms. Andrews was waiting in the prosecution lobby.

"Sorry about the noise," Miles said. "You must be Ms. Andrews."

"I am," the woman replied. "May I have your name?"

"Miles Edgeworth. I took over prosecuting after Ms. von Karma was prevented from showing up."

"Is she going to be okay? I heard she was shot…"

"The last time I heard from the hospital, she was in no danger, though her shoulder will likely hurt for at least a few days. Moving on… I need to know more about your involvement in what happened."

"My… involvement?"

"Ms. von Karma left some interesting notes on what you've said. I'd like to confirm what happened."

"…Very well. I entered Juan's room after checking on Matt and saw him dead. I was so shocked that I felt faint, so I poured myself some juice that was sitting on the table."

"…And that's all?" Miles asked after Ms. Andrews fell silent.

"That's all."

_Why am I reminded of when Lana tried to convince me she had killed Goodman? I suppose Franziska didn't leave anything in her notes hinting to anything else, but considering the trail of evidence and testimony we've followed up to this woman, her involvement can't just be a dead end… I suppose we'll find the hidden path behind the brush when court reconvenes. I suppose if the necessity arises, I can use her little secret to force the truth out of her, though I'd rather not cause her more stress than necessary._

"Hmph," Miles chuckled. "Your attitude reminds me of the way my fiancée was a few years ago. Back then, she had quite the secret to guard. I should hope that's not the reason behind your behavior."

"What are you trying to imply, Mr. Edgeson?" Ms. Andrews asked.

"Edgeworth," Miles corrected. "And I am warning you that the defense is not to be underestimated; though he usually makes claims first and presents the evidence to support it later, he's no idiot. I have yet to see a lie get past him in court. And I won't tolerate any lies, either. If you have told me only the truth and left nothing out, I am sorry for treating you like this, but know that if you have been lying or intend to lie on the stand, or if you are withholding something important from the court, Wright and I will stop at nothing to find the truth you are keeping from us."

"Mr. Edgeworth, you're needed in court," the bailiff called.

_Perfect timing._ "Shall we?" Miles asked Ms. Andrews as he walked toward the door.

* * *

The judge banged his gavel, calling court back into session.

"Court will now reconvene," he announced. "Now then, Mr. Edgeworth, if you please."

"The prosecution calls the witness subpoenaed by this court," Miles stated. "Ms. Adrian Andrews, the person who discovered the crime in Mr. Juan Corrida's room!"

Ms. Andrews was escorted to the stand. She was fidgeting with what looked a gift card from some local knickknack shop.

"What is your occupation?" Miles asked.

"I am the manager of the defendant in this case, Mr. Matt Engarde," Ms. Andrews answered.

"I see," the judge said. "Now then…"

"Before we begin, Your Honor," Ms. Andrews interrupted, "I have one request."

"Uh, yes, sure. What is it?"

"I'm sure everyone in this room is wondering the same thing, and would love to find out more about my relationship with the victim. After all, it was the topic of a certain weekly 'magazine' recently…"

"Ah, no, I have no idea what you mean. I've never even heard of 'Gossip Land'…"

_If the judge was ever a witness, he'd do all of the defense's work on his own…_

"Anyway, I was wondering if you could please tell us about your relation to the victim," Miles requested.

"Yes, I was seeing Mr. Corrida," Ms. Andrews replied. "I was also aware of the rivalry that existed between Matt and Juan… But this was a private matter between Juan and myself."

_Likely about Ms. Inpax, but that's a story for another testimony._

"Hmm, so it was a 'fry 'n bait' matter…" the judge commented. "Or was that 'bait 'n fry'? Reminds me of fishing…"

"But I…" Ms. Andrews cut in. "But I didn't kill him."

"No one has accused you of that," Miles assured her.

"I've got a feeling someone will soon…"

Wright, from the look on his face, knew she was referring to him.

"I think we all understand your relationship with the victim now, Ms. Andrews," the judge said with a nod.

"Very well then," Miles added. "Witness, please testify to the court about what happened when you discovered the murder that had taken place."

Ms. Andrews waited until she was sure everyone was paying attention, all the while fidgeting with her card.

"It was time for the show to start," she began, "so I went to get Matt from his room. After that, I went to Juan's room. And there was his dead body. I… I was in shock… What I saw was, naturally, the exact same scene as in the crime scene photo. I felt as though I was about to faint, so I poured myself a glass of juice."

"You poured yourself a glass of juice…?" the judge asked after he was sure Ms. Andrews was done testifying.

"Yes. Sadly, I didn't remember not to touch things at the scene of a crime… And I disturbed the crime scene by moving this one thing…"

"And that is when the fingerprints on the wine glass were made, Your Honor," Miles stated.

"I see," the judge commented. "Well, Mr. Wright, you may cross-examine the witness."

"Phoenix," Mia called to Wright before he could start. "She is one cool and collected customer, and she has the brains to match."

"Yes…" Wright agreed. "I know."

"In order to catch a person like her, you have to avoid head-on confrontations. You should disrupt her pace."

"Disrupt her pace…?"

"She's the type of woman who is easily thrown off by things inconsistent with her thinking so you have to attack when she least expects it. The instant you let up on your offense is the instant this trial is over. Understand?"

_It's funny how much she behaves like Mia Fey. Maybe that's why Wright hired her…_

Wright looked over the testimony. "You were 'in shock'…?" he asked the witness.

"What?" Ms. Andrews half-laughed. "Was I not supposed to be?"

"Anyone randomly stumbling upon a dead body would be in shock," Miles stated. "And you can't seriously expect that a young beauty like her would not be shocked."

_That came out wrong… Why do I feel as if Lana's the one on the stand? I suppose this witness does bear some similarities to her… The attitude, the secret, the intelligence…_

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I see…"

"What I saw was, naturally, the exact same scene as in the crime scene photo," Ms. Andrews said. "I felt as though I was about to faint, so I poured myself a glass of juice."

"Hold it!" Wright demanded. "Juice…?"

"Yes, there was a bottle of tomato juice on the table, so I helped myself."

"But you didn't drink any of it, did you?"

"Huh?"

"There were no lip marks on this wine glass to suggest anyone drank from it."

"I… I wasn't feeling terribly great, so I set the glass down. Without drinking it…"

_Something smells, and I'm pretty sure it's not the Butz._

"Ms. Andrews," Wright continued, "I would like to confirm with you one more time. When you discovered the dead body of Juan Corrida, you were in great shock. And that's when you poured yourself the glass of juice, correct?"

"And what of it…?" Ms. Andrews asked. "My mind really was a complete blank at the time."

"Your mind was a complete blank? I didn't think that was possible for you."

"Aren't you rude today? I was so dazed that I made one careless mistake… That one thing…"

"What 'one thing'?"

"Um, never mind. It's no big deal."

_Right, and that photo Lana took of Neil Marshall was no big deal, either. If Wright doesn't press her on this, I will._

Wright, right on cue, hit his desk.

"Ms. Andrews!" he barked. "I'm convinced that as you said, you made a 'mistake' at the scene of the crime."

Ms. Andrews didn't respond.

"What I really want to know is what this 'mistake' was," Wright continued, pointing at the witness.

"Hmm, actually…" Miles trailed off. "So would I…"

"I…" Ms. Andrews stuttered. "I'm sorry… It's just… It's kind of… embarrassing… When I… When I set the glass down on the dresser… I accidentally… knocked the flower vase over…"

The gallery started murmuring. The judge responded with a whack of his gavel.

"F-Flower vase…?" the judge confirmed. "Are you talking about the one on the floor in the crime scene photo…?" He took out a copy of the photo. "This mess of glass shards!?"

"It was originally on top of the dresser…" Ms. Andrews admitted, "but when I bumped into it with my elbow, it fell… onto the guitar case."

Miles struck his desk. "Wh-Why did you withhold such an important piece of information!?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry… I thought that since the crime scene was already in disarray, that people would simply assume the vase was just another part of the mess."

The judge banged his gavel.

"It seems like yet another fact has come to light here," he stated. "Please add this and anything else you have to reveal to your testimony."

"I'm sorry…" Ms. Andrews stammered. "But… I have nothing more to add… I didn't touch anything else."

_For someone with nothing more to add, you sure sound nervous. …No matter; I'm sure Wright will catch on._

"I was the one who knocked the flower vase over," Ms. Andrews testified, "where it fell onto the guitar case."

"Objection!" Wright yelled. "You testified that you knocked the flower vase over. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"And are you sure it fell onto the guitar case?"

"I-Is there some problem with what I said…?"

"It's not 'some' problem, it's a 'major' problem. It's true that the top of the guitar case was wet with water. However, that's exactly what's so strange! Ms. Andrews! You testified that the vase fell onto the guitar case! However!" Wright paused to hit his desk. "If that was true, the case should have gotten wet on the inside, not the outside!"

The gallery began chattering, cut off when the judge banged his gavel.

"Th-That's very true!" the judge agreed.

"Furthermore," Wright added, "there is one other strange thing about this guitar case."

"And wh-what is that?"

"Let's take another look at the crime scene photo. The remains of the vase are scattered on the floor."

"And what is wrong with that?"

"If the guitar case was open when the vase fell…" Wright pounded on his desk, then pointed at Ms. Andrews. "The glass shards should be INSIDE, not outside the case!"

"Ah!" Ms. Andrews gasped.

"Objection!" Miles barked. "What is your point, Wright!? That the case was closed at the time the vase was knocked over? Is that all!?"

"Objection!" Wright responded. "No. Think back to what Ms. Andrews testified to! She said that other than the vase, she didn't touch anything else!"

"Nngh…" _In other words, you think she opened the guitar case._

"Yes, that's right…" the judge said. "She did implicitly say she didn't touch the guitar case!"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "But… But this whole matter with the guitar case is a dead end! The bright red guitar was found at the studio! It has no bearing on this case at all!"

"…That may very well be," Wright admitted, "however…" He trailed off.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "It seems that there is no deeper meaning to the guitar case. Well, Mr. Wright? Do you think we need to hear more details about the guitar case?"

"The empty guitar case…" Wright struck his desk. "I believe this is a crucial piece of the puzzle!"

"Heh!" Miles chuckled. "I can't believe ANYONE would reach for straws like this! But it is you…"

The judge banged his gavel. "Alright," he said. "I'll follow along… For now. Ms. Andrews, please testify to the court about the guitar case."

"Yes, Your Honor," Ms. Andrews replied. "I don't remember too clearly because I was a bit dazed. I suppose I must have opened the guitar case… after I knocked the vase over. It's not a big deal though, right? The case was empty after all. As for why I opened the case… Even I don't know."

"Hmm… It looks like this really wasn't a very important point."

"This wastefulness is such a familiar feeling by now that it's almost… comforting," Miles commented.

"Um, anyway, I'll just go ahead and start the cross-examination…" Wright said.

"Hmph. Using 'anyway' to change the topic; a convenient escape for a weak man."

Wright looked over the testimony, carefully examining it.

"There is no way you were the one who opened the guitar case," Wright finally said.

"Why would you say that!?" Ms. Andrews demanded.

"It's elementary, my dear." Wright paused and pounded on his desk. "Because the only fingerprints on this guitar case are those of the victim!"

"Ah!"

The gallery started up.

"What is it, Ms. Andrews?" the judge asked. Miles noticed that the witness looked as though she had suddenly recalled something.

"…You shouldn't assume that I must have left prints just because I touched the case," she said to Wright.

"What do you mean?" Wright asked.

"What if I were to tell you that I was wearing gloves at the time?"

"Gloves…" the judge echoed. "But why would you be wearing gloves at the time?"

"It was the night of the award ceremony. So of course I dressed up for the occasion. Yes, now I remember… I'm almost sure I was wearing a pair of thin gloves."

"Hmm… I see… Well, Mr. Wright. It seems the witness was wearing gloves at the scene of the crime."

"You were wearing gloves…?" Wright asked. "Isn't that a little strange?"

"Why is that strange!?" Ms. Andrews almost snapped. "Do you have something that would prove I was not wearing gloves at the time…?"

"I have your proof right here." He indicated the wine glass. "This wine glass."

"The wine glass?"

"You left your fingerprints very clearly on this wine glass."

"Ah…"

_Indeed, she wouldn't even be here had it not been for that glass._

"Even if you took your gloves off when you poured yourself this glass of juice," Wright continued, "wouldn't you think it was just a little strange…" He paused to hit his desk. "That you put your gloves back on, just to open the guitar case!?"

"Ugn!" Ms. Andrews cried. The gallery stared yammering, though the judge quieted them down with three whacks of his gavel.

"Order! Order! Order!!" he bellowed.

"Looks like you hit the nail on the head this time," Mia said to Wright.

"What do you mean?" Wright asked, looking confused.

"I believe that guitar case plays a very important role here."

"But it's just an empty case…"

"I wonder if it really was empty though…"

"B-But the guitar… The bright red guitar was at the studio!"

"Phoenix, drop all of your presumption. What was in the guitar case was not the bright red guitar."

_I hope he's not going to try to say a bright yellow guitar was in the case…_

The judge banged his gavel, cutting them off.

"Hmm, I admit it would be unnatural for someone to do that," he said. "So the witness was not wearing gloves, despite the fact that on the case…"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "Your Honor, this is obviously the defense's usual misdirection tactic at work. Steer the court towards an unrelated topic, and lull us all into his misguided…"

"Objection!" Wright snapped, cutting Miles off and striking his desk. "No, Your Honor! Please recall that Ms. Andrews had testified that the vase 'fell onto the guitar case'! Which means that the case was closed when the crime took place! However, it is wide open in this photo of the crime scene!" He indicated the photo and struck his desk again. "I am sure this guitar case has some relation to the murder!"

"Objection! If you are so sure, Wright, then I'm sure you can somehow substantiate your outrageous claim, correct!?" Miles pounded on his desk. "Please, enlighten us as to why that guitar case has anything at all to do with this murder!"

"Uh…"

_As usual, you make the claim first and find the proof later._

"Can you do that, Mr. Wright!?" the judge asked.

"Um, well… Let's suppose for a second… That the bright red guitar was not the only thing that could have been in the case…"

"The bright red guitar not being the only thing…? Y-You don't mean to suggest that a bright BLACK guitar was inside the—"

"Objection!" Miles cut in, striking his desk. "So, you intend to push your theory that the case was not empty!? Is that it, Wright!?"

"I wouldn't say something I didn't intend to prove!" Wright replied.

"Deflate that head of yours! You haven't proven a thing yet! Now then, let's have it. What was inside this case at the time of the murder!?"

"Take that!" Wright took out his copy of Hart's photo.

"Th-This is…" the judge stammered. "This is a photograph…!"

"Yes, but what is important is what is in that picture, Your Honor."

"I-In the picture…?"

"It doesn't take a genius to see what I mean! What I am proposing is…" He paused to hit his desk. "Inside the guitar case was the Nickel Samurai! The hero's very own costume!"

"Wh-What!?" Miles howled. The gallery's murmurs implied they were just as surprised. The judge banged his gavel to restore order.

"M-Mr. Wright!" he called. "Explain yourself!"

"Wright!" Miles barked. "Are you saying that the witness opened the guitar case to take out a costume!? What insane point would there be to doing something like that!?"

"That insane point would be to wear the costume, of course," Wright answered. "Ms. Andrews put it on to hide her identity so she could make her escape. After all, you couldn't let anyone see you leave, could you, Ms. Andrews?"

"I-I refuse to accept your theory!" Miles pounded on his desk. "Do you have anything to support such a preposterous idea!?"

"Just outside the door was an investigative photographer who was starving for a big scoop. And in the end, she managed to get this shot, correct?"

"You… You mean this photo!?" the judge asked, indicating Hart's photograph.

The gallery murmured, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Order!" he barked. "Ordeeeer! It looks like we've wandered into quite another mess again, haven't we…?"

Mia muttered something to Wright, but Miles didn't hear her, nor did he hear Wright's response.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "So the real murderer was hiding inside a costume…"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "W-Wait one second, Your Honor! The Nickel Samurai's costume would have been Mr. Matt Engarde's!" He struck his desk. "Why would something of the defendant's be in the victim's room!? And inside the guitar case, of all places!?"

"Hmm, true… That is a little baffling… Mr. Wright, the court would like to hear your thoughts. What was this Nickel Samurai costume doing inside the guitar case…?"

"Mr. Engarde did not take his costume off during the break period…" Wright said. "In that case, the costume we are talking about was a spare one."

"What…?" Miles managed to say.

_Just give it up, Wright. Your theory makes no sense!_

"Then…" the judge began, "are you saying that on the night of the murder… there were TWO Nickel Samurai costumes at the Gatewater Hotel!?"

"Yes, that is what I am saying," Wright replied with a nod.

"And how do you explain the costume that was inside the guitar case…?"

Miles hit his desk. "It would mean that the victim himself had planned to bring this spare to the ceremony!"

The gallery started expressing their confusion.

"But…" the judge stammered. "But why!? The victim, Mr. Corrida, was the Jammin' Ninja. Why would he secretly bring the Nickel Samurai's spare costume with him…? What could be the reason behind such a peculiar act?"

_Peculiar? Try unreal! I can't see any reason for this!_

"…Ah, so that's what he intended…" Wright said.

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "Wh-What are you mumbling to yourself about now!? Have you just been rambling all this time without any sense of inner monologue!?"

"Huh!? N-No, I just…"

"Mr. Wright, please explain yourself!" the judge ordered. "Why do you think the victim had the Nickel Samurai's spare costume!?"

"Phoenix…" Mia said. "Are you sure you can explain this one? Think carefully before you answer… And then answer with gusto! I believe in you!"

"Alright," Wright said. "This is what I think. The reason the victim brought the Nickel Samurai's spare costume to the hotel was…" He took out some sort of slip of paper. "Take that!"

"What is this…?" the judge asked.

"On the night of the murder, after the stage show, the Nickel Samurai was going to hold a special press conference."

"A press conference…?"

"Yes, the Nickel Samurai was supposed to confess something at this conference."

"I heard about this as well," Miles commented. "For once, you're not making something up, Wright."

"But what struck me as strange was that Mr. Engarde himself said he had no idea he was supposed to be holding a press conference that night."

"But how can that be!?" the judge asked.

"The way I see it, that can mean only one thing: The conference was set up…" He paused to hit his desk. "by none other than the victim, Mr. Juan Corrrida himself!"

"Th-The victim?"

"Yes. The spare Nickel Samurai costume was prepared for that very conference! Mr. Corrida was going to hold the press conference as the 'Nickel Samurai'!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"He was going to dress up as the Nickel Samurai and hold a conference!?" the judge asked, dumbstruck. "But why would the victim do such a thing!?"

"That's something I don't quite know yet," Wright admitted, "however… What I am concerned with right now is what he intended to reveal at that conference."

"The Nickel Samurai was going to 'confess' something," Miles said. "And by 'confess', I'd wager he was going to reveal something about 'himself'."

"Which means that Juan Corrida, posing as the Nickel Samurai," Wright hit his desk. "was going to speak about Matt Engarde!"

"Yes, I guess that is what it would mean…" the judge agreed.

"But, if that's the case…" Miles started, "that's not a 'confession'! That's 'public disclosure'!"

The gallery was clearly quite confused at this point. However, a single "Hmph" from Ms. Andrews quieted them down more effectively than the judge's gavel.

"M-Ms. Andrews…?" the judge called.

"I can see why you are pros at what you do," she said.

"Pardon me?"

"Yes, just as you say, the press conference was set up by Juan."

_What!?_

The gallery started up again.

"Ms. Andrews!" the judge barked. "Please offer us an explanation for this!"

"I was the one he asked to help set it up," she explained. "And the person who prepared the second costume for him… That was also me."

"You…!?"

"Juan had bet everything on the Jammin' Ninja this year. And if he lost the Grand Prix… He was going to make sure Matt was going down with him. That's what he thought anyway."

"He was going to ruin him, huh…?"

"It looked like somehow, Juan had in his hands a secret so powerful… that it would destroy Matt's acting career had it been revealed!"

"What!?" Wright yelped, followed by general confusion in the gallery and three whacks of the judge's gavel.

"And do you know what this 'secret' of Mr. Engarde's is, Ms. Andrews…?"

"That's something only Juan knew," she said after a pause. "I… I don't know what it is."

_Though you sound as if you have a hunch._

"Ah…" the judge said. "I see."

"I… I've probably been coming off quite suspicious to everyone, but that's to be expected. I've been trying to protect Matt, after all…"

"P-Protect Mr. Engarde!?" Wright stammered.

The judge banged his gavel.

"And yet again another strange bit of truth comes to light it seems…" he commented. "Ms. Andrews, if you could, please tell us the truth about your behavior!"

"Yes, Your Honor," she said. "I understand. From the moment I saw the crime scene, I had a feeling that Matt was the murderer. Matt had to kill Juan no matter what. And he didn't have an alibi for what he was doing at the time of the murder. My thoughts were confirmed by the evidence, of course; the button and the knife… But I'm Matt's manager… So I felt that I had to protect him…"

"_Protect him?" Considering your scheme with Mr. Corrida, you protected him about as well as Wu Sangui protected Ming China._

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "This does account for everything…"

"Well…" Ms. Andrews said, "I am the logical type."

"We're finally seeing her true self," Mia stated. "She is more nervous than a scared rabbit."

"If there are no objections," the judge announced, "I feel that I can pass a verdict based on this testimony. Now then, Mr. Wright, if you please."

Wright looked over the testimony. After a moment, he hit his desk.

"You can hardly call the knife 'decisive evidence'!" he insisted. "The fingerprints on the knife could very well be a clever camouflage!"

"Then… What about the button?" Ms. Andrews asked.

"The button…?"

"It's clear from the crime scene that the victim and the murderer fought. And during the fight, the killer ripped the button from the Jammin' Ninja's costume."

"You're talking about this button, correct?" the judge asked, indicating the bloody button.

"That button was found in the pleats of Matt's hakama, isn't that correct? I would think that makes it very decisive evidence."

"Urk," Wright squeaked.

"Looks like you were out-foxed again, Mr. Wright," the judge said.

"A-Anyway! The knife doesn't prove a thing! Please fix your testimony!"

"I can't stand the sight of a man who can't gracefully accept his defeat," Ms. Andrews taunted.

_Get used to it, Ms. Andrews; Wright clings to his case like a barnacle to the hull of a ship._

The judge banged his gavel.

"Ms. Andrews," he began, "for Mr. Wright's sake, please add this information to your testimony."

"That button was torn off of Juan during his fight with Matt," Ms. Andrews testified.

"Objection!" Wright shouted. He took out the autopsy report and started flicking it with his hand. "This is the victim's autopsy report. It clearly states that the cause of death was 'strangulation by a scarf'."

"S… Strangulation…"

"The knife stab to the victim was done after the victim had already died."

"A-And what does that mean?" the judge asked.

"Let's examine the evidence," Wright said. "This button has the victim's blood on it. Which would mean that it was ripped off of the costume… when?"

"After the knife was stabbed into the victim…" Miles answered.

"Exactly! Which means…" He paused and struck his desk. "It is impossible that this button was torn off during the victim's final struggle, because the victim was strangled to death in that fight!"

"Ah…" Ms. Andrews grunted.

"That's right, Ms. Andrews. There is no way this button was ripped off during the struggle." He hit his desk, then pointed at the witness. "This button was consciously pulled off of the victim's already dead body!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"Order! Order!" the judge roared. "Wh-What is the meaning—"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "What is the meaning of this, Wright!? So what if the button was torn off the body after the victim had already died? What does that change!?"

"Let me ask you one simple question, Mr. Edgeworth," Wright replied. "Why was the button torn off? What purpose did that serve?"

"What 'purpose'…?"

"We now know this button was not torn off during the fight. So the murderer took the time and effort to purposely rip this from the victim's body. That would mean that the murderer had something in mind, wouldn't it?"

_Ah… That does make sense… No killer would consciously put incriminating evidence on his person._

"Mr. Wright!" the judge called. "Does this mean… Does this mean you know what the murderer wanted to do with this button!? What was it!?"

Wright banged on his desk. "There is only one logical reason for doing something like that," he said. "It was to pin the crime on Mr. Engarde!"

_Here it comes…_

"There is no way anyone would put a bloodied button in their own pants!" Wright continued, pausing to hit his desk. "That's right! Mr. Engarde was set up! By the real killer, of course!"

The gallery began murmuring. The judge banged his gavel.

"And…" the judge said. "The real murder is…?"

"_Murderer," not "murder," Your Honor._

"Well, Mr. Wright!?" the judge demanded. "Who in the world is the real killer then!?"

_I think it's fairly obvious who he intends to accuse._

"The real killer," Wright began, "the person who planned to frame Mr. Engarde is…" He pounded on his desk for emphasis. "Ms. Adrian Andrews! I choose you!"

_Why did I suddenly picture an old Pokémon episode?_

"You are Mr. Corrida's killer!" Wright accused.

"Wh-What!?" Ms. Andrews yelped.

The gallery was quickly in an uproar, though the judge managed to quiet them down with a few whacks of his gavel.

"Order! Order! Order!!" he yelled. "Mr. Wright! This is a very grave matter! Do you have any evidence that supports your charge…?"

"'Any evidence'…?" Wright echoed. He struck his desk. "ALL of the evidence points to Ms. Andrews!"

"Wh…" Ms. Andrews stuttered. "How preposterous! You can't stick any of that on me!"

"I can't, can I? Would you care to test me?"

"Then… Then what about this knife!?"

"The knife was used to stab the victim after he had already been strangled to death. It was used to throw suspicion onto Mr. Engarde, naturally. A knife covered in the defendant's fingerprints could only be taken from his room. And the only one who had dinner with him, and knew which knife to take, was you."

"Tsk! …Th-Then! What… What about the button that was found in Matt's hakama!?"

"This button was removed from the victim's body after he had already died. The only people who could've done so were the person who found his body or the killer. However, if Mr. Engarde was the real killer," Wright paused and hit his desk. "there is no way he would have put such incriminating evidence in his own hakama!"

"Ughn…"

"The only person who could have put this button into Mr. Engarde's hakama, is the person who went to wake him from his nap… which is you, yet again, Ms. Andrews."to

"I… I see…" the judge managed to say. "What about the empty guitar case…?"

Wright struck his desk. "That is also another piece of evidence that incriminates Ms. Andrews. That costume was used to hide the real killer's identity as they fled the crime scene. Now, who could have known that there was such a costume inside the guitar case…? It could only have been the person who prepared the costume for the victim." He hit his desk again. "And that person is… you, Ms. Adrian Andrews!"

"N… No…" Ms. Andrews whimpered. "I…"

"Objection!" Miles shouted, striking his desk. "But Ms. Andrews' fingerprints were nowhere to be found on the guitar case! And it was you who proved that she was not wearing gloves at the time!"

"…Th-That's right!" the judge realized. Wright shook his head.

"That's because she did not intend on leaving any prints," Wright explained. "If anyone had found out that she had touched the case, they would have asked her why. So to avoid leaving any prints, she used a towel or something else to open it." He pounded on his desk. "But! The glass of tomato juice is a different story! Ms. Andrews purposefully left her fingerprints on the glass to show that yes, indeed, she was the classic 'dazed discoverer' of a dead body!"

"Aaaaaah!" Ms. Andrews screamed.

"And to top it all off," Wright continued, indicating Hart's photo, "there is this photo! A photo of the killer as they exited the scene of the crime. No reasonable person on Earth can believe this Nickel Samurai is Mr. Engarde! He would be much too short for his own costume if it was him."

_Classic Wright… Finding the smallest thing to hold on to and building a case off of it. Still, that ability came in handy in Lana's trial… and mine…_

"Speaking of how tall people are…" Wright added, "Ms. Andrews, you're also kind of short in stature, are you not?"

"P-Please…" she stuttered. "Stop…"

Wright slammed on his desk. "Well, how about it, Ms. Andrews!?" he demanded.

"Um…"

_...Almost every time Wright cross-examines someone, they become the bad guy._

"Ms. Andrews…?" the judge called.

"…I…" she barely managed to say. "I… I refuse… to testify."

"What was that…?" Wright asked.

"Th-There's a law… It says I can't be forced to testify about something… if it can incriminate me!"

The gallery started up.

_The Fifth Amendment… It's been years since I've seen someone use it…_

"Well, yes…" the judge acknowledged. "You are absolutely correct, Ms. Andrews. The law does provide us with a way to avoid self-incrimination… by allowing a witness to not testify if the testimony can cause damage to themselves."

"WHAT!?" Wright yelped.

_And so ends Wright's attack. He always gets held here._

"You did a good job proving everything up to this point, Phoenix," Mia said. "But there is still one thing you haven't done."

"Something I haven't done…?"

"Heh heh heh," Miles chuckled, doing his "evil smile." "What's wrong, Wright? Are you finished already? Run out of evidence?"

"What is so humorous, Mr. Edgeworth!?" the judge asked.

"I'm sure you realize this as well, Your Honor… But, everything the good lawyer here has proven up to this point is meaningless."

"Wh-What!?" Wright stammered.

"Everything you have proven is circumstantial."

"Circumstantial…?"

"Yes, circumstantial. You have yet to provide a single piece of definitive proof." Miles paused and struck his desk. "Proof that Ms. Andrews, did in fact, harbor a wish to murder Mr. Corrida!"

The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.

"M-Ms. Andrews!" the judge called. "You… Did you want to kill Mr. Corrida…?"

"I believe this may lead to me incriminating myself," she answered, "so I will abstain from answering."

"But Ms. Andrews… If you do that, it would be the same as admitting your guilt, don't you think…?"

"Maybe so, or maybe not. There is nothing to prove it either way. Besides, you don't even know what crime I would be 'guilty' of due to my silence."

"M-Mia!" Wright begged. "What should we do…?"

"Somehow," she replied, "we've landed in the worst possible situation."

The judge banged his gavel.

"I think we have reached a certain conclusion at this point in time," he said. "Ms. Adrian Andrews has refused to testify. And the defense's theory that she is the actual murderer… has not been fully substantiated with solid definitive proof."

"But!" Wright cried. "That's not true!"

"In this situation, there is only one thing this court can do. And that is to declare a recess."

"R-Recess…!?"

"I request that both the prosecution and the defense look further into this matter. And at tomorrow's trial…"

"Hold it!" Wright screamed, hitting his desk. "Please wait, Your Honor! Th… That's not necessary! The trial… Please continue the trial!"

"What are you sweating for…?" Miles asked. "Your client is getting one more day to live, isn't he?"

"That… That's not it! This isn't about that." He struck his desk, then pointed at Miles. "Edgeworth! I know you know who the real killer is! Please… Let the trial continue! If I don't get the verdict, then Maya…"

_Maya? Come to think of it, why isn't she here? And what connection could she—_

The judge banged his gavel, disrupting Miles's thoughts. "But it's impossible to continue as long as the witness refuses to testify," he said. Now then, this court is…"

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "It is not impossible for this trial to continue."

_This feels way too much like Lana's trial…_

"Mr. Edgeworth!" the judge gasped. "Wh-What are you…"

"It's true Ms. Andrews holds the right against self-incrimination; however, if the topic of conversation were something unrelated to whatever she may be guilty of, the she has no right to withhold testimony!"

"Y-Yes, that is very true, but…"

"Actually, there is one little thing that I'm curious about. Ms. Andrews."

She didn't respond.

"When you found the victim's dead body," Miles continued, "you poured yourself a glass of juice."

"Y-Yes…" she admitted. "And…?"

"I can't help but think how unnatural that is. Usually when one finds a body, they are shaken up, not stirring a glass of juice."

"So my actions were 'unusual'? But I've already…"

"Before you speak, I want to state that if you have a reason behind your actions, I would like you to testify to that effect."

"Testify…!?"

Miles struck his desk. "Your Honor!" he called. "I would like to request that the witness testify again as to what happened when she first discovered the victim's body! Whatever we find out in this testimony should in no way implicate the witness."

The gallery made it quite clear that they were confused.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled.

"I don't know what it is about Edgeworth today," Mia commented, "but I can't get a good read off of him. Is he friend or foe? I just don't know…"

The judge banged his gavel. "The court acknowledges the prosecution's request," he said. "Ms. Andrews, if you please."

All eyes were on the witness as she collected herself.

"That glass of juice…" she stated, "I didn't really pour it for myself. I was surprised when I walked into the room and saw it in that messy state. And Juan… He was sitting slumped over and tired-looking in the corner. When I saw him sitting like that, the thought that he was dead didn't cross my mind. To be honest, I thought he had just fainted or something. So I went to pour him some juice. When I realized that he was dead… That's when I knocked the flower vase over."

"Hmm…" the judge murmured. "So you poured that glass of juice for the victim. Why didn't you say so in your earlier testimony?"

"…I didn't think I needed to include something so trivial."

Mia whispered something to Wright, to which he said something back.

"Now then, Mr. Wright," the judge said. "You may begin your cross-examination."

Wright read the testimony, then opened up his files, taking out a photo.

"So you honestly didn't think he was dead when you found him?" he asked Ms. Andrews.

"No, not at all…" she answered.

"Even though this is what you saw when you discovered the body?" Wright appeared to be holding the crime scene photo.

"…Ah!"

"Wh-What is the meaning of this!?" the judge demanded.

"Isn't it obvious, Your Honor?" Wright asked. "There is a knife sticking straight out of Mr. Corrida's chest! Anyone who saw this scene would have immediately though that here was a dead man!"

"Ah…" Ms. Andrews stammered. "Um… That's… Well, you see…"

"I doubt a single person in the world would mistake this for someone who fainted, and then so nonchalantly go pour something to drink!"

"Y-Your point is…?" the judge asked.

"Ms. Andrews! Your testimony just now… It was all one giant lie!"

"Ungh!" she grunted.

"And your lie has proven one thing very clearly. That you are the real killer!"

"…!"

_Damn it… I should have known Wright would find something… But still… He hasn't proven his case just yet…_

"It looks like the defense has somehow brought the ugly truth to light," the judge commented after a pause. "The defendant, Mr. Matt Engarde, is not guilty after all…"

"That…" Ms. Andrews struggled to say. "But that's impossible! You're wrong…"

"M-Ms. Andrews! Try to have some composure!"

"It… It wasn't me… It wasn't me, I tell you! It was Matt! I swear it! He's the one who killed Juan!"

"But you were the one who refused to testify!" Wright protested. "And your reason for not doing so was that you 'might' end up incriminating yourself!"

"Th-That's because…"

"Ms. Andrews," the judge said, "I will give you one last chance. What exactly are you hiding that may 'incriminate' you?"

"…I… I… I refuse… to testify."

The gallery started up, silenced by a whack of the judge's gavel.

_I warned you, Ms. Andrews. If you are withholding something important from the court, Wright and I will stop at nothing to find the truth you are keeping from us. And I'll make good on that warning before court is adjourned._

"Then there is no need for this court to continue any further," the judge announced. "Mr. Matt Engarde's innocence has been clearly demonstrated."

"What's wrong, Phoenix?" Mia asked.

"Usually…" Wright trailed off. "Well, usually, the real killer confesses his or her guilt. And now that I think about it, this is the first time someone hasn't."

The judge banged his gavel. "Now then," he stated, "I would like to hand down my verdict for Mr. Matt Engarde." He paused for a moment.

"Objection!" Miles shouted. All eyes were instantly on him. "Your Honor. The prosecution feels that it would be premature to pass down a verdict at this time."

"Wh-What…?"

"The reason is quite simple." Miles paused and did his "evil smile." He knew Wright would writhe in agony before the trial ended. "This witness has yet to speak the absolute real truth."

The gallery started up, though the judge quickly banged his gavel to quiet them down.

"The 'absolute real truth'…?" he echoed. "What are you…?"

"Witness…" Miles called to Ms. Andrews. "Don't you understand yet?"

"…Huh?" she squeaked.

"I don't know who planted this silly idea in your head, but as long as you 'protect' yourself through your silence, Matt Engarde will go free. And in his place…" He paused and struck his desk. "YOU will become the guilty party!"

"…Th-That's… That's a lie! I… I don't believe you!"

"What…?" _I sense Franziska's work here…_

"I… I was told… If I spoke… If I spoke, then it would be all over… And Matt would never be declared guilty… I… I can't speak about it… I'm too scared…"

_This reminds me so much of Lana's trial. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was Lana on the stand again, desperately trying to hide what she thought incriminated Ema…_

"It's Franziska von Karma…" Mia said.

"Huh…?" Wright uttered.

"Ms. Andrews lives by gripping tightly onto the words of another. Because she doesn't have the strength to believe in herself."

"Th… Then, right now… Ms. Andrews is…"

"Yesterday, she was tossed a life-saver by Ms. Von Karma. 'Don't say a word, no matter what happens. If you do, Matt Engarde will be acquitted.' Ms. Andrews undyingly believes in those words right now, and is clinging onto them…"

_That sounds exactly like something Franziska would do. Someday… she'll see the real purpose of the courts. Still, I'd better have a word with her once this is all over…_

"It wasn't me!" Ms. Andrews insisted. "I'm begging you, please believe me! I didn't kill Juan! Help… Please… Someone… Help me…!"

_I'll help you, but you probably won't think of it as "help"…_

The judge banged his gavel. "Mr. Wright," he called.

"Y-Yes, Your Honor!" Wright answered.

"The court can't continue on like this, therefore I'd like to hear what you intend to do."

_Or maybe Wright will save you…_

"Wright!" Miles warned. "I suggest you think very carefully about this! Think about what this witness did, and what she did NOT do!" He struck his desk. "And think about who is the real mastermind behind this crime!"

Wright appeared to mull it over, but didn't look like he saw the truth yet. Miles struck his desk again.

"Come now!" he demanded. "What will you do!? What kind of man are you, Mr. Phoenix Wright!?"

That appeared to set him on the right track for the time being. Wright hit his desk.

"Ms. Andrews!" he called. "I would like to know what you are really hiding!"

"M-Mr. Wright!" the judge stammered. "Are you sure you know what you're doing!?"

"Sure, Mr. Engarde would get an acquittal," Wright continued to Ms. Andrews, "but in his place, you would be found guilty! Is this… Is this how you really want this trial to end!?"

"B-Be quiet…" Ms. Andrews whimpered. "How dare you!? You… You're trying to trick me!"

The judge banged his gavel. "That's enough!" he bellowed. "I commend you for trying, Mr. Edgeworth. However, it's clear that the defense's theory is the truth."

"…Y… You're wrong…" Ms. Andrews cried.

_I guess it's up to me, then._ Miles did his "evil smile".

"Such a shame…" he said with a sigh. "I had hoped things wouldn't come to this, however…"

"Wh-What is it, Mr. Edgeworth?" the judge asked.

"Ms. Andrews," Miles said to the witness. "Since you absolutely refuse to testify… It falls on my shoulders to disclose this to the court."

"…S… Stop…" she begged.

_Not until we hear the truth._

"M-Mr. Edgeworth!?" the judge called.

Miles struck his desk. "This witness…" he announced. "How should I put this… She has an illness."

"What!?" Ms. Andrews yelped.

"And because of this illness, she has tried to commit suicide in the past."

"S-Stop… Please stop…!"

"No matter how much you want to hide it, it's no use. I have the evidence right here." He held up a report on Ms. Andrews's attempted suicide two years ago.

"Ah! Th-That's…!"

"What will you do now, witness?" Miles asked. "You know what I am about to do, don't you?" He pounded on his desk. "I will now reveal to the court, the true nature of the pitiful woman known as Adrian Andrews!"

"Please! Please STOP!! I beg you!! If people find out… If people find out… I… I'll…"

_Fight it. Whether or not you'll be able to live with yourself after doing this to her isn't important right now; only the truth is._

Miles shrugged and shook his head. "If you're going to say you would 'choose death'," he said, "that is of no concern to me. However, before you die…" He struck his desk again. "I will pull the truth from your breathing lips! …No matter what I have to do."

_I've fought against even Lana's wishes to reveal the truth. I will not turn back!_

"So, will you tell the court yourself, or shall I?" Miles continued. "Either is fine with me."

Ms. Andrews didn't respond for a moment.

"…I…" she managed to say. "I'll talk. But please… Help me… N-Nothing matters anymore…"

_You have my word that I'll find help for you._

"When I first saw him…" Ms. Andrews testified, "I really thought he had fainted. Honest. When I realized he was dead… That was when I formulated my plan. Once I made sure there was no one in the hallway, I made a dash back to Matt's room. And then… I stabbed Juan's dead body with the knife, and ripped off the button. Just when I finished and was returning to Matt's room… I had a bit of an inconvenience. And that's why… That's why I ended up using the Nickel Samurai costume."

"S-Stabbed the body!?" the judge asked after realizing Ms. Andrews was done testifying. "With the knife!? But why would you do that!?"

"Isn't it obvious? To pin the blame on a certain person… A certain cowardly man!"

"Wh… What do you mean by all of this…?"

"It might take this court a little while to understand," Miles explained, "but…" He paused, shook his head, and smiled. "This is the truth."

"The real killer is Matt!" Ms. Andrews insisted. "That scumbag of a man! I'll never forgive him! He's trying to escape his guilt again! Just like last time!"

"_Last time"… As I thought. Mr. Engarde, it would appear, must have some connection to Ms. Inpax's suicide._

"So, Ms. Andrews stabbed the victim, Juan Corrida, in the chest with the knife," Miles said. "However, she didn't do it with murder in mind. She did it with the intent of framing Matt Engarde for the murder…" He struck his desk. "And this! This is her 'crime'!"

The gallery started murmuring. Miles overheard a few people suggesting that he was just buying time.

_It's only natural for those familiar with my past self to suspect foul play… They, like Wright, will see that that Miles Edgeworth is dead._

"Mr. Wright," the judge called to a sweating Wright. "Please get over your shock and commence the cross-examination.

Wright looked over the testimony and hit his desk.

"But you could tell from the state the room was in," he insisted, "that there must have been a fight! Are you telling the truth when you say that you did not know he was dead?"

"He… had a scarf tied around his neck…" Ms. Andrews admitted. "But that scarf is a part of the Jammin' Ninja's costume… So… So I didn't think anything about it was strange… His head was also… tilted down a bit, so I couldn't see his face that well… That's why I thought I'd wake him up… and went to pour the juice… When I realized he was dead… That was when I formulated my plan."

"What is this 'plan' you had?"

"…I knew right away the murderer was Matt. I knew because Juan… He was going to expose Matt's weakest weakpoint to the world. So Matt did this to stop Juan, and silence him for good. That's when I thought, 'I should forge some evidence and pin this crime on Matt.'"

"So the forged pieces of evidence were the knife and the button…" Miles confirmed.

"The first thing that came to mind was to plant the knife," Ms. Andrews stated. "Once I made sure there was no one in the hallway, I made a dash back to Matt's room."

"That was so you could get the knife, correct?" Wright asked.

"The knife Matt used at dinner had his fingerprints all over it. I thought if I used that, then the police would certainly turn their eyes toward him. Matt was napping with his costume on at the time. I slipped in, took the knife, and returned to the scene of the crime. And then… I stabbed Juan's dead body with the knife, and ripped off the button."

"So you were the one to stab the victim with that knife."

"It gives me goosebumps to think about it now… What a horrible thing I did… But… At the time, I couldn't control my own body. It moved on its own. Then, when I stabbed Juan's dead body… I suddenly realized something. If I used the button somehow, I could make Matt look even more suspect."

"So you thought to rip one of the buttons off and then plant it in Mr. Engarde's hakama," Miles said.

"Yes… That's what I had planned to do. …But things never go that smoothly, do they? Just when I finished and was returning to Matt's room… I had a bit of an inconvenience."

"An 'inconvenience'…?" Wright asked.

"There was a woman with a camera at the ready, loitering in the hallway. There was also a woman with a ray gun at the ready pacing back and forth… I had already been caught and made into a big scoop for a certain weekly tabloid once, so I couldn't very well go out looking like myself and get caught again. And that's why… That's why I ended up using the Nickel Samurai costume."

"You were the one who prepared that costume, weren't you?"

"Yes. I took it from Global Studios… I also put it into Juan's guitar case the day before the award ceremony."

"You did this in preparation for the press conference, correct?" Miles asked.

"Yes, Juan wanted to wear that costume and hold a press conference in it. He was going to disclose Matt's big secret there."

"And what is this 'secret'…?" the judge asked.

"…That, I don't know," Ms. Andrews said after a pause. "Anyway, I thought that if I were to leave Juan's room in the Nickel Samurai costume… then people would think that Matt was the 'real' murderer. I was very careful not to leave any fingerprints when I opened the guitar case. I absolutely did not want anyone to know about the costume."

The judge banged his gavel.

"I think we've heard enough!" he said. "So, after that, you went back to Mr. Engarde's room and planted the button?"

"…Into Matt's hakama?" Ms. Andrews confirmed. "Yes. After that, I folded up the costume I was wearing and put it into a bag. Then I snuck it out of the hotel and got rid of it."

"M-My word… What does all this mean…?"

"…Mr. Edgeworth, is it?"

Miles didn't respond.

"The real criminal… is Matt Engarde!!" Ms. Andrews asserted. "Yesterday… That woman prosecutor sat me down for a talk…"

_I thought so._

"She said that I should under no circumstances confess to what I had done. That if I just kept quiet, then Matt would be found guilty for sure… I… I had no choice but to believe in her words…"

The court was silent.

_Hopefully, Franziska will be ready for visitors by the time court is adjourned, because she's going to get one, whether she wants one or not._

The judge banged his gavel, breaking the silence.

"What this witness has done is clearly unlawful," he said. "However… As long as her testimony stands, we can be certain she is not the real killer!"

Wright pounded on his desk. "W-Wait, Your Honor!" he begged. "The defense still…"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "Wright. It's pointless. At this point in time, it is not possible to indict Ms. Andrews on anything."

"Yes, exactly," the judge said with a nod. "There isn't a single piece of evidence that points to her as the murderer." The judge banged his gavel. "The cross-examination of this witness is over. And so is today's trial. You couldn't establish that the witness was the culprit. Please let it go, Mr. Wright!"

Wright banged on his desk again. "B-But!" he stammered. The judge shook his head.

"Mr. Edgeworth," he instructed, "please place Ms. Andrews under arrest for further questioning."

"Understood, Your Honor," Miles answered. "The prosecution will arrange for her detention immediately."

"That's all. Court is adjourned for today!" He banged his gavel and promptly left his seat. Wright seemed about to faint as his head sunk into his hands. Miles began to place his files away, then stopped for a moment.

_Come to think of it… something's been bothering me._

"Witness…" Miles called to Ms. Andrews. "Would you mind if I asked you something?"

"What is it…?" she asked.

"Before you leave court today, I wondered if I might look at one thing. The card in your hand. It's had my interest for quite some time now. What exactly is it…?"

"Oh, this…?" She held out the card she had been fidgeting with. There was a pink conch shell design on it.

_No…_

"Mr. Wright also asked about this," she said. "Although I didn't remember at the time you asked me about it, Mr. Wright, I remembered just now. I found this in the room on that day."

"'The room'…?" Wright asked.

"'That day'…?" Miles added.

"Yes," Ms. Andrews replied. "I found this card when I discovered Juan's body."

_WHAT!?_

"It was lying there right next to him…" she continued.

_It… It must be HIM!_

"You found that card… next to the victim's body?" Wright asked.

"I suppose I must have unconsciously slipped it into my pocket…"

_My first case back here since Lana's case… and HE's involved!_

"…But it's not as if this card has any relevance to Juan's murder, right?" She began to walk away.

"Hold it!" Miles screamed, almost collapsing completely onto his desk. "Witness! That card… Give it to me! Hurry!"

Ms. Andrews, shocked, walked over, looking as though she expected Miles to attack her.

"E-Edgeworth…?" Wright called.

"Do you have any idea what you have stupidly, yet inadvertently done!?" Miles roared. He struck his desk as he was handed the card. "This… I can't believe you hid this from me all this time!

"I… I didn't mean to…" Ms. Andrews whimpered.

"Wh-What is this all about…?" Mia asked.

_Shelly de Killer… I never imagined I'd see another one of his cards…_

Miles placed the card in his coat pocket and hastily walked out of the courtroom. Franziska could wait; the investigation needed to be reorganized.


	35. Part II, Chapter 9: Mistake of Fact

**Chapter 9—Mistake of Fact**

March 23, 2018

Lana had rather suddenly found herself prosecuting another attorney's case shortly after Miles left for the United States: a murder case in which opera tenor Jack Postrel was shot during a performance of _Mazeppa_. It appeared to be a very simple case, as the fatal shot had been fired onstage during the performance, apparently by the defendant, bass-baritone Richard Stark. As such, the entire audience witnessed the murder. Originally, Alexander Wuertz was to prosecute the case, but he suddenly fell ill and was staying home on the doctor's orders.

_Why would he shoot someone in front of all those people?_ Lana thought as she looked over the notes Wuertz had taken._ Unless he planned on destroying his career, too, it would make no sense for him to. Even the stupidest killers I've prosecuted or investigated would think twice about shooting someone in front of almost two thousand people._

"Ms. Skye, you're needed in court," the bailiff said, entering the Prosecution Lobby.

* * *

"All rise for the Honorable Mr. Justice Shirazi," the clerk announced as the judge, a man looking to be from somewhere in the Middle East, entered. As Lana glanced in the defendant's direction, she saw that Gavin was the defense attorney. Thinking she saw something odd, she glanced at Gavin again and noticed a bandage wrapped around his right wrist and part of his hand.

_I wonder what happened to him…_

"You may be seated," the judge said. "Court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Richard Stark."

"The prosecution is ready, My Lord," Lana said.

"The defense is ready, My Lord," Gavin said.

"Thank you," the judge responded. "Ms. Skye, could you please give the court your opening statement?"

"Yes, My Lord," Lana replied. "On the eighteenth of March this year, Jack Postrel was shot at the Jensen Opera House during their performance of _Mazeppa_ and died the following day. The suspect, Mr. Richard Stark, was apprehended immediately by his fellow performers and turned over to the police for arrest the instant they arrived. The subsequent investigation has given us no reason to doubt the defendant's guilt."

"I… see. Mr. Gavin, what plea does the defense wish to enter?"

"The defense pleads not guilty due to mistake of fact," Gavin replied.

The gallery murmured. The judge tapped his gavel lightly.

"Mr. Gavin, please clarify as to how this can be a mistake of fact," the judge requested.

"The defense holds that Mr. Stark was of the belief that the murder weapon was, by design, incapable of firing actual bullets," Gavin explained.

"I am still not certain I understand."

"In all previous performances, as well as earlier in the performance in which the victim was shot, no bullets ever came out of the gun in question. Furthermore, my client was of the belief that the gun in question was just a prop designed only to simulate the sound and appearance of a gunshot."

"Hm… Ms. Skye, your opinion?"

"Testimony from the director matches Mr. Gavin's claim," Lana stated. "The prop was supposedly no more dangerous than a cap gun. This being the case, in order for the murder to happen, the prop would have had to be either modified to fire actual bullets or replaced with a real gun that resembles the prop."

"Just so there is no misunderstanding, Mr. Gavin," the judge said, "you are asserting that while the defendant did, in fact, shoot the victim, he was… unaware that the murder weapon was able to fire real bullets?"

"Yes, My Lord," Gavin answered. "The defense believes the prop gun was replaced with the murder weapon, and that no reasonable person, after using the prop so many times without actually firing a bullet, would suspect that the gun they were holding was in any way capable of firing real bullets."

"Mm… Mr. Gavin, this is a very dangerous plea to make."

"While I mean no disrespect, My Lord, I have conferred with my client on the matter, and we have agreed on this plea. I would like to request that the plea be entered; the defense is aware of the risks involved, and if Mr. Stark objects, I ask him to do so."

"Mr. Stark?" the judge asked, switching his gaze to the defendant.

"From what Mr. Gavin has told me, I believe this is the right plea to enter," the defendant said.

"Very well. Ms. Skye, please call your first witness."

"Understood, My Lord," Lana said. "The prosecution calls Detective Samuel Lowe to the stand." The detective walked up to the stand, struggling to conceal his excitement. "Detective, please state your name and occupation to the court."

"Samuel Lowe, ma'am!" the detective eagerly replied, saluting. "Constable, Criminal Investigation Department."

"Detective, I would like you to testify to the court about the nature and circumstances of the victim's death, as well as why Mr. Stark was arrested for the crime."

"Understood ma'am!" Lowe took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "During an opera performance, Jack Postrel, one of the performers, was shot in the abdomen onstage in front of an audience of 1,893 people. He died in the hospital from infected peritonitis the following day. Analysis of the bullet's ballistic markings identified the murder weapon as a single-shot handgun, found to have the defendant's fingerprints on it. When we arrived at the scene of the crime, the defendant had been apprehended by two of his fellow performers and was patiently awaiting our arrival."

"I see," the judge said after a moment. "Mr. Gavin, you may begin your cross-examination."

"Thank you, My Lord," Gavin said. "Detective, could you please clarify something for me?"

"Of course," Lowe answered.

"You said my client shot the victim in front of almost two thousand people. Does the department have any explanation for why he would do that?"

"The defendant has admitted on multiple occasions to despising Mr. Postrel. Apparently, he was dating the defendant's daughter, but was two-timing her. Furthermore, the victim had a reputation for being immature and disruptive during rehearsals."

"The motive is not what I am bothered by, Detective. My problem is with the number of witnesses. Considering the location of the murder and the nature of the murder weapon, this crime was clearly premeditated."

"I agree completely, sir. But I still don't see what—"

Gavin struck his desk, interrupting Lowe. "What kind of idiot would plan to murder someone in front of almost _two thousand witnesses_! If you're planning to kill someone, wouldn't you try to make sure there are no witnesses!"

Lowe appeared to swallow, though Lana heard nothing.

"The murder was during a performance, onstage!" Gavin continued. "Had my client planned the murder as it happened, there is no way he wouldn't have known beforehand that the entire audience would witness it! The sheer stupidity of going ahead with such a plan is reason enough for me to question my client's guilt!"

The gallery started up, though the judge responded quickly with his gavel.

"That is a very good point, Mr. Gavin," the judge said. "Ms. Skye?"

"Yes, My Lord?" Lana replied.

"Does the prosecution have any explanation for this?"

"The large number of witnesses does support the possibility of a mistake of fact, but it is still only a possibility. There have been cases of people committing a crime with the full knowledge that they will be caught."

"I see. Mr. Gavin, please continue your cross-examination."

"Detective," Gavin continued, "you said the shot was fired onstage from a single-shot handgun."

"I did, sir," Lowe responded.

"Having seen the performance from two days before the murder, I recall there being two shots fired by the prop gun, one in the first act, one in the third."

"Yes, sir, the program said as much."

"And the murder happened during the third act?"

"Yes, sir."

"That means the fatal shot was fired during the third act."

"Yes, sir."

"In that case, it follows that no bullet came out of the gun when it was fired in the first act."

"Yes, sir."

"Then we have two possibilities. The first is that the murder weapon was fired both times, but only had a bullet in it the second time. The second possibility is that the prop was fired in the first act, but the murder weapon was fired in the third act."

"Actually, sir, the murder weapon showed signs of only being fired once."

"Is that so?" Gavin asked, a smile crossing his face.

"Yes, sir."

"If that's the case, then the prop must have been fired in the first act. Why has the prop not been submitted into evidence?"

"Ah… um…" The detective began to tremble. "Ms. Skye?"

"I'm sorry, Detective, but the situation's unchanged," Lana said. "The prop has still not been found."

"Oh…" Lowe sighed. "We're still looking for it at the opera house, but it's nowhere to be found." He winced.

"Detective, this is a vital piece of evidence," Gavin said. "Are there any leads on where the prop might be?"

"None, sir. Everyone who was backstage at any time during the performance was searched thoroughly the night of the murder, and none of them have been allowed back to the crime scene since. We're pretty sure the prop is somewhere in the building."

"Moving on, you testified that my client was apprehended by two of his fellow performers."

"Yes, sir. Emily White and Luka Lebedev."

"Mariya and Orlik, correct?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't remember the roles they performed."

"It says in the program that Ms. White sang the role of Mariya and Mr. Lebedev was Orlik," Lana said. "When the shot was fired, Mr. Lebedev had recently gone offstage and Ms. White was due to enter later in the act."

"Is either of them available to testify?" Gavin asked Lana.

"Ms. White is in the Prosecution Lobby, ready to be summoned at a moment's notice."

"And Mr. Lebedev?"

"Unfortunately, he is in St. Petersburg now, though he was questioned during the investigation. That's why his testimony was submitted into evidence before the trial began."

"One last question, detective," Gavin said, turning back to Lowe. "Regarding the murder weapon… do you know where it came from?"

"There's no record of a gun of the same design as the murder weapon being licensed to anyone connected to the case," the detective said. "There's also no available information on the gun's model, which means we are probably dealing with a specially crafted gun that was acquired illegally."

"And do you know who crafted it?"

"No. A single Cyrillic letter was found on the grip, though it's meaning is unknown at the moment. We suspect whoever crafted the gun added it as a seal of sorts."

"Is that also on the prop gun?"

"We can't be sure until we have the gun, but everyone we asked did not have any memory of such a symbol being on it."

"So you currently can't trace the gun to anyone?"

"That is correct. We're still looking into it, but when I was summoned to court, we still had no leads."

For a few seconds, the courtroom was silent.

"My Lord, I have no further questions for the detective at this time," Gavin finally said.

"Very well," the judge said with a nod. "Ms. Skye, please summon your next witness."

"Understood," Lana said. "The prosecution calls Ms. Emily White to the stand. As she personally witnessed the murder and worked with both the defendant and the victim, I believe her testimony will be helpful."

Ms. White entered the courtroom, everything from her appearance to the way she walked carrying the essence of a woman who took pride in her status.

"Witness, please state your name and occupation for the court," Lana said as Ms. White reached the stand.

"Emily Teresa White, soprano in the Jensen Opera," she answered. "I sang the role of Mariya in the Jensen Opera's performance of _Mazeppa_."

"Ms. White, you witnessed the shot that took Jack Postrel's life, correct?"

"Yes."

"You also apprehended the defendant?"

"Yes."

"Please testify to the court about those events."

"Very well. Just as we had rehearsed, Richard took out a handgun during his staged duel with Jack and fired. Jack's acting had been so good in past performances that I don't think anyone realized he had actually been shot until he said so. The orchestra stopped, and a huge commotion started in the audience. Realizing what had happened, Mr. Lebedev and I ran onstage and restrained Richard. He didn't put up any resistance and let us lead him away."

"Hm…" the judge droned. "So the shot in question was supposed to be disguised as part of the performance?"

"I disagree, My Lord," Gavin said. "As I said before, no one in the right mind would plan to murder someone in front of that many witnesses, let alone expect his victim to continue performing as though nothing had happened."

"It does appear to lend support to your plea, Mr. Gavin, but I'm still not convinced."

"Of course, My Lord. Moving on…" Gavin paused to look over the testimony. "How would you describe how my client behaved after the shot?"

"He almost collapsed when Jack shouted that he had been shot for real," Ms. White answered. "After we ran up and restrained him, he just went along without resisting."

"Did he say anything?"

"If he did, I didn't hear it. As far as I remember, he was silent the entire time."

"Did anyone else see him?"

"His daughter followed us, but I kept her away."

"You mean Michelle?"

"Is that her name?"

Gavin rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. "Do you know what she did after that?" he asked.

"She looked worried, but left us alone. As for what she did after walking off, I have no idea. I kept an eye on Richard until the police took him away."

"I see. Ms. Skye, do you have any information on Michelle Stark's movements?"

"From what other witnesses told us," Lana began, "Ms. Stark ran after the defendant, but returned to the house after about a minute. She didn't leave that area until after she was questioned by the police and allowed to leave."

"Was she searched?"

"Yes. The police found nothing unusual on her person, nor could they find anything relating to the crime in her coat or purse."

Gavin pressed on the bridge of his nose a bit harder. "I see. And what about during that one-minute interval?"

"As far as I know, she ran in the direction of the stage when I sent her away," Ms. White said.

"Was there anything between the stage and where you lost sight of her?"

"There was a storage room."

"What about my client's dressing room?"

"We had just passed that. She didn't enter, if that's what you wanted to ask."

"Michelle Stark was in the orchestra pit from the moment the conductor lifted his baton to the moment the victim was shot," Lana stated. "I hope that clears up any suspicions you might have about her, Mr. Gavin."

Gavin said nothing.

"Mr. Gavin, do you have any further questions for the witness?" the judge asked.

"No, My Lord," Gavin replied.

"Hm… then allow me to give my input on where things stand. Two things need to be ascertained. The first is the location of the prop gun. It's been established that the shot in the first act was from the prop gun. Therefore, it must have been switched with the murder weapon at some point during the performance. The second is who had the opportunity to switch the guns. We are dealing with a small timeframe in which either the defendant or another person switched the prop gun with the murder weapon."

"My Lord," Lana started, "while the location of the prop has still not been determined, the prosecution has a witness that I believe will be able to address the issue of who had the opportunity to switch the guns."

"Very well. Please call your witness, Ms. Skye."

"The prosecution calls to the stand Ms. Virginia Wagner."

A woman looking to be in her late forties took the stand. Ms. White stepped down, briefly glaring at the new witness.

_I wonder what that was about…_

"Witness, please state your name and occupation for the court," Lana said.

"Virginia Wagner," the witness replied. "I am the director of the Jensen Opera."

"Before we discuss the matter of the murder weapon, please tell the court what you were doing during the performance and directly after the victim was shot."

"During the entirety of the performance, I was in my office. Since the shot is in the actual opera, I didn't think anything strange had happened until I heard the audience jeering. Before I could leave my office, someone from the crew ran in and told me Postrel had been shot for real. I went to the stage to attend to Postrel and try to restore order. Once the police arrived, I cooperated as best I could with the investigation."

"…I see," the judge said after a pause. "Mr. Gavin, you may begin your cross-examination."

"Thank you, My Lord," Gavin said. Then, turning to Ms. Wagner, "Did you see my client after the shot?"

"He was being led away by White and Lebedev," Ms. Wagner replied.

"Where was he led?"

"I suspect he was led to one of the spare dressing rooms, though you would have to ask Ms. White about that if you wanted to be certain."

"As it turns out," Lana cut in, "according to Mr. Lebedev, the defendant was taken to a spare dressing room, where he stayed until the police arrested him and took him away."

"Then there you have it," Ms. Wagner said.

"Moving on…" Gavin continued. "You said you were in your office 'during the entirety of the performance.' From there, assuming the door was open, you would have been able to see down the whole backstage hallway, correct?"

"Yes. And since the door was open, I was able to see everything that happened in the hallway during the performance."

"Before the shot, when the performance was still going on, did you see anyone go into a room other than their own?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Woodman had lost his wallet during the intermission between the first and second acts. Apparently, it had somehow slipped out of his pocket when he was in the hallway."

"And he went into other people's rooms in search of it, even though it was in plain sight in the hallway?"

"No, I picked it up so I could return it to him later. After the first scene ended, he went back into his dressing room. I forgot to return his wallet to him at that time, so he later went out in search of it. When I saw him enter Stark's room, I went after him. He seemed very relieved when I gave it back to him."

"Did anyone else go into my client's room?" Gavin asked.

"I don't remember anyone else going in, no."

"You said you 'went after him' when Mr. Woodman went into my client's room. Does that mean you also went into his room?"

"Yes."

"Did anything seem out of the ordinary when you were in there?"

"No."

"Mr. Gavin, do you suspect the witness of switching the guns?" Lana asked.

"It's a bit early to make any accusations," Gavin answered, "but she has just made it clear that she had the opportunity to do so. Moving on, Ms. Wagner, you said you didn't see anyone else enter my client's room, other than my client, of course."

"That's correct," Ms. Wagner said.

"I see."

"Any other questions, Mr. Gavin?" the judge asked.

"Yes. The defense requests that the witness testify about the prop gun."

"The prop gun?" Lana repeated.

"The prop gun," Gavin confirmed. "I want to know what normally happens to it after it's fired in the first act. In order for the guns to be switched, the killer would have to have come into possession of the prop gun at some point."

Lana nodded. "I agree."

"Very well," the judge said. "Ms. Wagner, are you qualified to testify on this matter?"

"Yes," the witness replied. "The prop gun contains a small charge of primer—Armstrong's mixture, I believe—that explodes when the trigger is pulled, simulating a gunshot, albeit without a bullet. Because the prop is designed to simulate only one shot, it has to be reloaded after it's used in the first act. Stark hands the prop to someone on the crew before returning to his dressing room. The prop is returned to his dressing room, ready to be fired again, during the first intermission."

"I see. Mr. Gavin? Your cross-examination, please."

"Yes, My Lord," Gavin replied. "Do you have any idea who the prop was given to on the night of the murder?"

"A part-time worker," Ms. Wagner said. "Maxwell Richardson."

"Do you know if he had any quarrel with the defendant or the victim?"

"He was only hired a month ago, so I doubt it."

"I see. Where does he go to refill the gun?"

"Prop storage."

"Why not just return the gun immediately after refilling it?"

"The primer we use is very sensitive," Ms. Wagner explained. "We want to make sure it doesn't explode by accident unless the curtain is down. Simply dropping the gun can be enough to make the primer go off. While much of the second scene is rather loud, there's still a risk that someone in the audience might hear the gun go off."

"So the gun is returned during the intermission."

"Yes. And Stark was instructed to just leave it in the holster on his costume. If he fidgeted with it…"

"It might go off," Gavin finished.

"Exactly. As far as I'm aware, he did as he was instructed."

"So, from the start of the second act to when my client went onstage for the third act, either the prop gun or the murder weapon was in his dressing room."

"Yes."

"That means, assuming my client did not switch the guns himself, we now have two possible times that the guns were switched: The first is before the crew member returned the gun to my client during the first intermission. The second is during the wallet incident, in which case either you or Mr. Woodman switched the guns."

"That sounds correct," Lana said. "This is, however, assuming that the defendant did not switch the guns himself."

"So, Ms. Wagner, after handing the wallet to Mr. Woodman, did either of you stay in that room?"

"We both left immediately," Ms. Wagner replied. "He went back to his dressing room and I went back to my office."

"And no one else entered my client's dressing room during the second act?"

"No one."

"My Lord," Gavin said to the judge, "I have no further questions for this witness."

"Very well," the judge said. "Ms. Skye?"

"The prosecution has no more witnesses to call," Lana said.

"I see. Then we appear to be at the end. The defense has put forth the possibility of a mistake of fact, but has thus far only proven it to be a possibility. However, we have learned that there was only a small timeframe in which the prop gun could have been switched with the murder weapon, leaving only three possible suspects, excluding the defendant: Virginia Wagner, Rufus Woodman, and Maxwell Richardson. If the defense cannot prove that any of them switched the guns, then I will have no choice but to reject the mistake of fact plea, in which case the defendant will be found guilty of premeditated murder.

"I demand that the prosecution be prepared to summon all three of the aforementioned suspects tomorrow, and request that priority in the investigation go to locating the prop gun and looking into the murder weapon's origin. Ms. Skye, Mr. Gavin? Do either of you have any objections to suspending the trial and continuing tomorrow?"

"No, My Lord," Lana said.

"No, My Lord," Gavin said.

"Then court is adjourned for the day," the judge said with a whack of his gavel.


	36. Part II, Chapter 10: Price of Justice

**Chapter 10—The Price of Justice**

March 23, 2018

Miles saw Maya Fey lying on the floor of some dilapidated old building. He felt himself floating on the air, his legs bent as though he was kneeling. However, he couldn't approach her. She was breathing silently and was unharmed, though she was clearly uncomfortable. Perhaps she was sleeping; her eyes were closed, after all.

A door opened. Standing in the doorway was a figure cloaked in shadow: Shelly de Killer. Maya stirred at the sound of him entering.

"Your friend has failed you," the man said ominously. "If you have any last words, I will make sure they are conveyed to him."

"…Tell him he did the right thing," Maya said, hunger depriving her voice of its usual energetic optimism. "I'm not… mad at Nick for letting you do this… Your 'client' is going to jail… Nick's a hero… no matter what choices you force upon him… And they'll find you… Engarde's a coward… he'll tell the police all about you… We won… even if you kill me… we won…"

"Noble words. I will make sure he hears them." He unsheathed a knife and held Maya's shoulders, forcing her to sit, then cut her throat.

* * *

Miles awoke, sweat making his pajamas stick to his skin. He looked at the clock. 5:03 AM. With a shaken sigh, he turned over and attempted to go back to sleep. He had worked late the previous night; Wright had revealed to him that Shelly de Killer had kidnapped Maya and was holding her hostage, willing to release her only if Engarde was acquitted. Since that revelation, they had worked hard to locate de Killer, though he eluded them.

Though the investigators were doing all they could to track down the assassin, Miles was not optimistic. In the end, he believed, it would come down to him and Wright, and though he would do everything he could to draw out the trial, there was nothing to be done if the investigators failed: the truth would be revealed, and Maya would die for it.

* * *

_My path is a just one_, Miles reminded himself as he waited to be summoned to the courtroom. _Lives have been lost in the pursuit of justice since time immemorial, and if Maya herself wishes to have Engarde convicted, then it is my duty to see justice done. I know I will regret it… but it is not my place to have people kept in the dark for fear that the light of truth may hurt them. I have seen what walking that path does… The pain of having an innocent person die in the pursuit of justice would be a mere itch compared to the pain of condemning an innocent person to death so that a lie may save another._

He found himself suddenly wanting to call Lana. It would be almost six o'clock in London, so it was unlikely he would be interrupting anything.

"Miles?" the familiar voice answered after a few rings.

Miles sighed. "I just wanted to talk to you before going into court today."

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes. It's a delicate matter, so I can't tell you everything, but someone has been threatened by someone who wants an acquittal. We're doing everything in our power to make sure the threat is taken care of, but we're running out of time." He could feel tears trying to well up in his eyes, though he knew they would not come.

"But there's something keeping you from letting the defendant be acquitted?"

"The defendant is guilty. I know this for a fact. There is only one other person who could be indicted in this case, meaning a guilty verdict for them—and by extension, a death sentence—would be inevitable if the defendant were acquitted."

Lana didn't say anything.

"Please don't worry if you don't have any input to give," Miles said after realizing Lana would not respond. "This isn't your burden, and I shouldn't have made you think about it."

"Don't…"

"Don't what?"

"Don't apologize. I can't pretend to be in your position."

"That's right. The verdict… is something that Wright and I will determine. He knows the truth, too. I don't know what he has decided, but I… I believe I know what I will do. I'll regret either choice, but I will make a choice regardless."

"I love you," Lana said, her tone hinting that she was trying to reassure Miles of his decision.

"I love you, too."

"I'm sure you'll make the right choice in the end, just as you always have for so long."

"…Thank you."

For a while, neither of them said anything.

"Lana," Miles finally said, "when I return…"

"Whatever you need, I'll be there for you."

"Thank you."

"Mr. Edgeworth!" the bailiff called as he entered. "You're needed in court."

"I have to go," Miles said to Lana. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

"Court is now in session for the trial of Matt Engarde," the judge said with a whack of his gavel.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said.

"The prosecution has been ready for a while, Your Honor," Miles half-lied.

"Now, as I recall," the judge began, "we concluded yesterday's session with a big mystery on our hands. The mystery being what exactly was Ms. Adrian Andrews' role in this murder? That is to say, is she really connected to the crime itself? Mr. Edgeworth, if you would please inform the court of today's proceedings."

"Adrian Andrews," Miles said. "She forged evidence that threw suspicion onto Mr. Engarde, and then proceeded to escape the crime scene by wearing a Nickel Samurai costume. The guilt of these actions are those from which she cannot escape."

"Hmm, then you're saying that she is guilty after all…?"

"I'm not finished, Your Honor. Ms. Andrews had nothing to do with committing the actual murder." Miles took out De Killer's card. "I would like to direct the court's attention to this card."

"What is that…? It looks like a shell…"

"This is the calling card of a certain assassin."

"A-Assassin, you say!"

Miles struck his desk. "Yes, Juan Corrida was killed by a professional assassin! And the person who hired the assassin, his client so to speak, is Matt Engarde!"

The gallery began murmuring, though the judge simply waited for them to quiet down.

"Wh-What a surprising turn of events!" he exclaimed.

"I would think it's become commonplace by now, Your Honor," Miles replied, doing his "evil smile."

_Wright, you know the truth. I am willing to work with you to stall the verdict on the off chance that Maya can be rescued, but in the end, if she is not safe, I will make sure that Engarde is convicted and Maya's final wishes fulfilled._

"But we still have to hold out as long as we can," Mia said to Wright, who apparently had been thinking something similar. "At least, until Maya's safe and sound."

_That is my hope, but one must be prepared for the worst._

"I wonder how the trial will turn out today…?" Wright muttered.

"Now then, please call your first witness, Mr. Edgeworth," the judge said with a whack of his gavel.

"The prosecution calls the defendant's 'mentor', Mr. Will Powers to the stand," Miles announced.

_I never thought I'd see him in court again…_

Powers took the stand.

"Now then, witness," Miles continued. "Your name and occupation, please."

"O-OK," Powers stuttered. "I'm… Uh… Will Powers. I'm a poor, underpaid action star…"

_You're the Steel Samurai. I highly doubt you would qualify as underpaid…_

"And what is your relation to the defendant?" Miles asked.

"Well, that's… I guess I'm sort of a lousy mentor to him in a way. Yeah."

"Um, Mr. Powers," the judge called. "Please… You don't need to put yourself down so much."

_Exactly what I was thinking._

"Oh, uh, sorry," Powers said. "Well, but I'm just kind of a nothing sort of guy."

"On the night of the murder, you visited the defendant's room," Miles stated. "Is this correct?"

"Y-Yes. Um, but you know… I didn't actually get to see Matt when I went…"

"All you need to do is answer what you're asked. Now then, I would like you to please testify about when you went to Mr. Engarde's room."

"O-OK… Sure… After the award ceremony, I went by myself to Matt's room. Matt was standing there in front of his room, still in his Nickel Samurai costume. He was talking with someone. At first, I thought it was the bellboy. I watched the two of them for a while, but then I gave up and went back. I had guests with me that night, and I couldn't make them wait for me."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Nothing sounds out of place in Mr. Powers' testimony."

"If one assumes that the person Mr. Engarde was speaking with was an ordinary bellboy…" Miles commented.

"Wh-What are you implying?"

Miles did his "evil smile" and pointed to Wright. "Well, Mr. Wright. Let's have your cross-examination, shall we?"

"Looks like we're in another sticky situation," Mia commented.

"Huh?" Wright managed to say.

_I'd think it would be obvious, Wright._

"A trap," Mia continued. "Can't you smell it, Phoenix? But for us to find out more, we're just going to have to charge in head first, right?"

Wright appeared to sigh. "The defendant's room?" he asked Powers. "Why did you go there?"

"Well, I'm his mentor," Powers replied, "like a big brother sort of, and I wanted to say congrats…" He stopped.

_I wonder why he just trailed off like that…_

"Wh-What's wrong?" the judge asked. "Why did you stop?"

"M-M-Mr. Wright!" Powers cried.

"Wh-Wh-What is it?" Wright asked in response, visibly worried.

"You… You're going to try to trick me into a corner, aren't you?"

"Huh?"

"I… I know I'm just a poor, underpaid action star, but… But… I… I'm not the killer!"

"Um, no one said you were, Mr. Powers."

"No, please! Don't trick me! Every time you do your lawyer thing, the witness suddenly turns into the bad guy…"

_For God's sake…_

"…Witness," Miles interjected. "I will personally talk to the defense at a later time. So for now, please kindly cooperate and continue with your testimony."

"S-Sorry…" Powers stammered.

"So, you went to the defendant's room," the judge confirmed. "And then?"

"Matt was standing there in front of his room, still in his Nickel Samurai costume."

"Are you sure that was Matt Engarde?" Wright pressed.

"Yeah, I'm sure. He wasn't wearing the Nickel Samurai mask then."

"And?" Miles asked. "What was the defendant doing, standing in front of his own room?"

"He was talking to someone," Powers said. "At first, I thought it was the bellboy."

"'At first'?" Wright confirmed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, he was in a bellboy-ish uniform and he had a bottle of juice on a tray."

"…Sounds like an ordinary bellboy to me."

"Um, yeah, but… I didn't think he was a normal bellboy."

"And why was that?"

"Um… Why did I think that, Mr. Wright?"

"H-How am I supposed to know!"

"Sorry, but I can't remember right now. …Sorry."

"You saw the two of them, the bellboy and the defendant, together, correct?" Wright asked, moving on.

"Yeah," Powers answered. "The bellboy just wanted to say congrats."

"Now, while you were watching the two of them, did you notice anything strange?"

"Um… You know, I did feel something weird. I think it was because Matt… Well, he gave the bellboy a tip."

"A tip?"

"So, how long did you watch the two of them?" the judge asked.

"Ah, not more than a minute or two, I think," Powers said. "I had guests with me that night, and I couldn't make them wait for me."

"So who are these 'guests' you're talking about?" Wright asked.

"You guys, of course. You and Maya and little Pearl."

_Pearl? The things people name their children these days…_

"I thought it would be really rude since I invited you guys, if I disappeared on you…" Powers continued. "So I went back to my seat pretty soon after seeing Matt in the hallway."

_Apparently, Ms. Oldbag isn't the only Global Studios employee with a bad memory… If he doesn't remember just why he was questioned to begin with, we're not going to get anywhere._

"Do you remember this incident?" Mia asked Wright. "Did Mr. Powers leave his seat that night?"

"I don't remember that happening at all," Wright replied. "Maya was making such a racket in her hyper state… I ended up focusing on her."

"…I see. In any case, from his story, he probably wasn't gone for very long."

"After the award ceremony, I went by myself to Matt's room," Powers repeated.

_This is ridiculous. Is he just repeating himself to try to jog his memory, or is the quality of his memory inversely proportional to that of his acting?_

"Matt was standing in front of his room," Powers continued, "still in his Nickel Samurai costume. He was talking with someone. At first, I thought it was the bellboy."

"Hold it!" Wright barked. "'At first'? What do you mean by that?"

_Not you, too, Wright…_

"I didn't think he was a normal bellboy," Wright replied.

"And why was that?" Wright asked.

"Um… Why did I think that, Mr. Wright?"

"H-How am I supposed to know!" Something appeared to dawn on Wright.

_Finally…_

"Actually, Mr. Powers," Wright said, "only a few minutes ago, you stated: 'Um… You know, I did feel something weird. I think it was because Matt… Well, he gave the bellboy a tip.' Could it be that you felt something 'strange' about the tip-giving incident itself…?"

"… AH!" Powers recalled. "Yeah! That's it! You really know your job!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Mr. Edgeworth."

"Yes, Your Honor?" Miles replied. _Let me guess: you've forgotten what was just said, too._

"This bellboy… He wasn't an ordinary one, was he…?"

"Perhaps we should let the witness tell us."

"Very well. Mr. Powers. Please amend your testimony."

"You mean about the bellboy, right?" Powers asked. "Matt gave the bellboy a tip."

"So he gave the bellboy a tip," Wright said. "What's so strange about that?"

"Ah, well, you see, Matt's not a poor penny-pincher like me."

_Says the man who came to court in a tuxedo that looks like it was designed by an orange juice producer…_

"I was trying to figure out how much it was because the tip really shocked me," Powers continued.

"'How much it was'…?" Wright repeated.

"But that's when something even more surprising happened! The bellboy was putting the tip he got in his pocket. And that's when I got my first good look at the guy's face… I was really shocked!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled again. "I'm afraid I don't follow at all."

"What was so shocking about the bellboy's face, Mr. Powers?" Wright asked.

"Well, he wasn't exactly a 'boy'…" Powers clarified, "more like an old 'gramps'…"

"Ahem!" the judge interrupted. "I hope you know that discrimination towards old men is a no-no in my court!"

"No, no, that's not what I meant at all! In the smack middle of the guy's face, there was a line of stitches!"

"A line of stitches…?"

"Yeah! And it went straight from the tippy top of his head to the bottom of his chin! Almost like if that thread snapped, all the stuff in his head would come spilling out."

"Ah!" Wright yelped, appearing to understand.

_Thanks for the mental image, Mr. Powers._

"What is it, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked, noticing the attorney's signature slump and cold sweat.

"A-Ah, nothing, Your Honor!" Wright managed to say, recovering.

Miles heard a harsh whisper from Mia, but couldn't make it out.

"You sure you don't have something you would like to say, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"Huh?" Wright responded, feigning ignorance. "Umm… What did you just say, Your Honor?"

"…Nothing, Mr. Wright. Nothing. We're just going around and around in circles. Now then, Mr. Powers. Please continue with your testimony."

_Speaking of going around and around in circles…_

"So he gave the bellboy a tip," Wright repeated. "What's so strange about that?"

"Ah, well, you see, Matt's not a poor penny-pincher like me."

_Says the man with a house in Rancho Santa Fe…_

"I was trying to figure out how much it was because the tip really shocked me," Powers continued.

"'How much it was'…?" Wright echoed.

_We've been through this…_

"But that's when something even more surprising happened!" Powers said. "The bellboy was putting the tip he got in his pocket. And that's when I got my first good look at the guy's face… I was really shocked!"

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled again. "I'm afraid I don't follow at all."

Wright pounded on his desk. "The defendant is a huge star," he said. "He can afford to give generous tips, wouldn't you agree?"

"Um, sure," Powers said. "But giving him that much was maybe a little too much, I think…"

"Would you please clarify for the court," Miles requested, "about how much would you say the defendant gave to the bellboy?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I can't even begin to guess."

"And why is that?" the judge asked.

"Because he gave the bellboy a really, really fat roll of cash."

"A ROLL OF CASH!" Wright screamed in shock. The gallery began murmuring.

_Why are you so surprised, Wright? Judging by your reaction to the comment about the stitches, you already knew who this "bellboy" really was._

The judge banged his gavel. "Ah, well…" he commented. "How interesting… That certainly was a very generous tip, wasn't it?"

"A very fat roll of cash…" Miles cut in. "That can hardly be called a 'tip', Your Honor!"

"Hmm…"

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "The defendant is a superstar!" He hit his desk. "That kind of tip is typical fare for people like him!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted back, striking his desk. "Are you saying that all superstars are super-spenders! If I could receive large rolls of cash by simply bringing people things on trays… Then why on Earth would I stand around here prosecuting!"

The judge banged his gavel. "Hmm, so supposing that roll of cash was not a tip…" he began, "then what was it?"

"Payment, Your Honor."

"Payment…?"

Miles did his "evil smile." _Come now… even if every bill in that roll was a one, it would be a ridiculous tip…_ "Isn't it obvious?" he replied. "For the murder of Mr. Juan Corrida."

"Then… Then the bellboy the witness saw…"

"Yes, he was the assassin."

The gallery started up again, quickly silenced by three whacks of the judge's gavel.

"H-Hold your horses now!" the judge exclaimed. "Mr. Edgeworth, you don't have any proof of this… do you?"

"Have I ever been unprepared to support my claims, Your Honor?" Miles replied, indicating De Killer's card. "I have here, the card Shelly de Killer left at the scene of the crime."

"Shelly… de Killer…"

"He is the person the police's special investigations team has been chasing for ages." He paused to strike his desk for emphasis. "I am certain that the person the witness saw was this very assassin, Shelly de Killer!"

"R-Really!" Powers stammered.

"What's wrong, Mr. Powers?" the judge asked after a pause.

"No, nothing. Something just clicked in my head and I think I just figured something out!"

"Oh?"

"Actually, I saw that bellboy again later on that night!"

"WHAAAT!" Wright yelped. The gallery started up again, though the judge quickly silenced them.

"Mr. Powers!" the judge demanded. "Please testify! Tell us what you saw!"

"Yes, sir!" Powers responded. "Right away! This time, I was in that hallway because I had to go to the bathroom! And that's when that bellboy I saw earlier came out of the room! Of course, when I say 'room', I mean Juan Corrida's room! Now that I think about it, that bellboy did seem kinda out of place! Yeah! So he had to be the assassin! I'm sure of it! I mean…"

"Thank you very much," Miles interrupted. "That is all we need for now."

"Huh? But I'm not done. There's still more…"

"Let us first establish that the bellboy was truly Mr. de Killer. Then we shall see."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "So the bellboy came out of the victim's room… And if this bellboy really was the assassin… Then, I think the answer is fairly obvious."

"That would be correct, Your Honor. Well, Mr. Wright. I believe it's your turn… to entertain and make us laugh."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha," Wright replied, an embarrassed look on his face.

"This is no laughing matter!" Mia snapped.

"Um… so what exactly was so 'out of place' about him?" Wright asked Powers.

"Wright, Wright, Wright," Miles taunted. "Why the insipid grin?"

Wright hunched over and started sweating.

_You are right to sweat._

"Um, well, the bellboy was empty-handed," Powers explained.

"Empty-handed?" Wright repeated.

"That bellboy was one of those room-service people, right? But he wasn't pushing a cart and he wasn't holding a tray either! You'd call that 'a little strange' too, wouldn't you?"

"Hmm… I agree that it is a bit strange, Mr. Powers," the judge said.

Wright pounded on his desk. "There is nothing strange or unusual about an empty-handed bellboy!" he insisted.

"But there really, really is!" Powers replied.

"There really, really isn't!"

"Objection!" Miles barked. "If you two are done being schoolchildren… Bellboys are for room service. There is no reason for them to be empty-handed, ever." Miles struck his desk. "Your Honor! I ask that the witness' previous statement be supplanted with this new one."

"I see," the judge said. "Very well, this court recognizes and grants the prosecution's request. Mr. Powers, if you could amend your testimony, please."

"Y-Yes, sir," Powers answered. "I thought it was kinda strange for a bellboy to come out of a guest's room empty-handed!"

"Objection!" Wright yelled. "Mr. Powers."

"Y-Y-Yes?"

"You're easily influenced by other people's words, aren't you? As soon as you heard that the bellboy might have been the killer, you got caught up in believing it must be true."

"But… But… Isn't he really suspicious! He's got all those stitches, and… and…"

Wright struck his desk, cutting Powers off. "So? A baseball has stitches! Are you saying all baseballs are suspicious because they have stitches!"

Powers gulped.

_And here I was thinking Mr. Powers was the only one with logic problems here…_

"Well, there's also…" Powers continued, "I mean, what about him being empty-handed!"

"I would like to ask the court to please take a look here," Wright said, indicating a photograph of the crime scene.

"This is… the crime scene…" the judge commented.

"There is a wine class sitting next to Mr. Corrida's body. The liquid inside this glass is tomato juice. And now, if you would look at what is on top of the table in the lower right corner here… Anyone can clearly see that it is a tray with a bottle of tomato juice on it!" He paused to hit his desk. "The bellboy had just brought this to Mr. Corrida's room. He left the tray in the room, which is why he was empty-handed when he left!"

"Aah!" Powers yelped.

"B-But!" the judge interrupted. "That would mean that the bellboy had seen and left a dead body in the room!"

"Ah, but can you prove that Mr. Corrida was already dead at that time?" Wright asked, shaking his head.

"Uh… M-Mr. Edgeworth!"

"…Yes?" Miles replied.

"I-I blame you for leading me down this route!"

"Heh heh heh," Miles chuckled, doing his "evil smile." "I'm terribly sorry… Witness. Isn't there one more thing you would like to share with us?"

"I-Is there?" Powers replied.

"The bellboy was empty-handed… Or should I say empty-'hand'ed? I recall you had something interesting to say about his hands…"

"Oh yeah! I almost forgot!"

"Huh?" Wright stammered. "Wh-What…?"

"That bellboy—he was wearing gloves!"

"Gloves?"

"Yeah, pitch black, leather ones. All the other bellboys don't wear gloves like that, right?"

"Black leather gloves…" the judge muttered. "Why didn't you mention them earlier!"

"S-Sorry… It slipped my mind."

Wright pounded on his desk. "So what if he had gloves?" he shouted, his voice wavering. "A lot of bellboys wear gloves!"

"Come on, Mr. Wright! That bellboy was wearing black leather ones!"

Wright hit his desk again. "So? A football is made of leather! Are you saying all footballs are suspicious because they are made of leather!"

Powers gulped.

_Are you a lawyer or a politician, Wright! Your logic is an embarrassment!_

The judge banged his gavel.

"But that man…" the judge said. "He received a large roll of cash from the defendant. And then he was seen leaving the crime scene wearing black leather gloves. I don't think that even someone like myself can believe he was just another bellboy…"

"Urgh…" Wright groaned.

"It seems that wee have finally come to an understanding…" Miles said. "Now then, witness. Please continue with the rest of your testimony."

"The rest…?"

"Oh yes, please tell us more," the judge said.

"OK!" Powers replied, suddenly looking much more excited. He then got serious. "After leaving Juan's room, the bellboy went and knocked on Matt's door, just like that. He gave something to the person inside the room. Then the old guy just left, without even going into the room. After that, I went to the bathroom and then back to my seat."

"So the bellboy, after leaving the crime scene, next went to the defendant's room…?"

"Yeah. I kinda saw all that by accident…"

"Hmm… I think it's safe to say that we can no longer consider this bellboy to be 'normal'. Now then, let's get started, shall we? Mr. Wright, your cross-examination, please."

"Yes, Your Honor…" Wright sighed, visibly worried. "Is that what you saw while you were busy spying?" he asked Powers, managing to recover.

"E-Excuse me!" Powers snapped. "I may be a poor, underpaid action star, but even I wouldn't stoop to spying!"

"Well, I think the point is where did you watch all this from, Mr. Powers?" the judge asked.

"Oh, um, from the door of the bathroom with my left eye, in a sort of sneaky, spy-like…"

"Please," Miles cut in, "does it really matter if he was doing it over or underhandedly? What did the bellboy do next? That's all I care to know."

"He gave something to the person inside the room."

"Hold it!" Wright yelled, hitting his desk for emphasis. "I said, 'Hold it!'"

"Umm… OK."

"That's better!" He paused to clear his throat. "What kind of statement is that! Please elaborate and give us a few more details!"

"Oh, umm… OK…"

"So who took the 'something' the bellboy handed off?"

"Um, actually, I don't know," Powers admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry, but I only saw the person's arm."

"Only an arm…?" the judge confirmed.

"Then you're saying you didn't see the person's face?" Wright pressed.

"Yeah," Powers said.

"Well, it was Mr. Engarde's room, correct?" the judge recalled. "So it could have only been Mr. Engarde himself, I'd say."

"And then?" Miles asked. "What did the bellboy do after that?"

"Oh, so after he gave the person inside the room the thing…" Powers continued. "Then the old guy just left, without even going into the room."

"Where did this bellboy go after he left Mr. Engarde's room?" Wright asked.

"Hmm… He opened the door to Viola Hall, went in there, and who knows after that, right? After that, I went to the bathroom and then back to my seat."

"Did you see anything strange, suspicious, or just out of the ordinary at that time?"

"Oh yeah, I saw that one thing!"

"What!"

"There was this jittery alien with a ray gun… It was watching Juan's door like some sort of stalker."

_Thank God I wasn't staying at that hotel… otherwise "it" would have been watching my door…_

"…Um, I think we can forget about the alien…" Wright said. "Well, Mr. Powers' testimony just now was just as vague as his first," he commented, turning to Mia.

"It's a little troublesome, isn't it?" she agreed. "But I'm sure if you press him enough, everything will become clearer. Although, that just makes it harder on us, doesn't it?"

"Ugh… Talk about a lose-lose situation."

"After leaving Juan's room," Powers repeated, "the bellboy went and knocked on Matt's door, just like that. He gave something to the person inside the room."

"Hold it!" Wright shouted, pounding on his desk. "I said, 'Hold it!'"

"Umm… OK."

_I've heard rondos that are less repetitive than this trial…_

"That's better!" Wright said. He cleared his throat again. "What kind of statement is that! Please elaborate and give us a few more details!"

"Oh, umm… OK…" Powers muttered.

"He gave 'something' to this person?"

"Yeah."

"And what was this 'something'?"

"Hah hah hah. If I remembered what it was, I wouldn't be calling it a 'something', would I?"

"But this implies that something was removed from the scene of the crime!" the judge remarked. "Are you sure you really can't remember, Mr. Powers?"

"Umm… I think it was something kinda small…"

"I would like to summarize the testimony up to this point, if you don't mind," Miles said. "When the bellboy left the crime scene, he immediately went to the defendant's room. There, he handed a small item of some sort to the person inside. As for the person who received the item, all you could see was the person's arm…"

"Yes, yes! It was just like that!"

"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge cut in. "Is all this really that important?"

"Of course, Your Honor," Miles replied. "I think this is of the utmost importance." He paused to strike his desk. "This is when whatever was removed from the crime scene was handed over to the client!"

"Hmm… Mr. Powers, please try to remember what it was the bellboy handed off."

"Um… Well, let's see…" Powers stammered. "Hmm… I think it was… No…"

"If you remember, please add it to your testimony."

"Y-Yes, sir. If I saw it again, I could say for sure, but I think it was some sort of wooden statue."

"Objection!" Wright shouted. However, he didn't continue.

_Yes, Wright?_

Powers looked at Wright, who was still silent, both hands on his desk. The judge was trying to figure out who had shouted.

"What was the point of that pregnant pause!" Miles roared.

"Where did that objection come from!" the judge demanded. "Well, speak up!"

"Uh, it was me, Your Honor…" Wright said.

Mia whispered something to Wright, who responded in kind.

"Mr. Wright!" the judge barked. "If you have something to say, please spit it out!"

"Y-Yes, Your Honor," Wright said. "Mr. Powers. The 'something' you saw…" He paused to take out what looked like a teddy bear. "Was it this item?"

_That's that toy that we found at Engarde's mansion…_

"Oh, hey!" Powers exclaimed. "That's it! That's the something! Wow, Mr. Wright. You really figured it out."

"Hmm, I recall we found this at Matt Engarde's mansion…" Miles commented.

"At the d-defendant's house!" the judge blurted out. The gallery started up, though the judge banged his gavel to quiet them down. "What does this mean!" he continued.

"It's simple, your Honor. Shelly de Killer assassinated Juan Corrida in his room. And then he stole this wooden bear from the scene of the crime."

"Then, the bear being found at Mr. Engarde's mansion would mean…"

Miles struck his desk. "It goes without saying, Your Honor," he said. "Mr. Matt Engarde is De Killer's client!"

The gallery started up again, silenced somewhat by three whacks of the judge's gavel. "Order! Order! Order!" he yelled. The gallery continued, albeit less loudly. "…I said ORDER!" He directed his gaze at Wright. "Mr. Wright. This is a most unfortunate turn of events for you."

"Yeah…" Wright grumbled. "Sorry, Mia," he said to his assistant. They continued back and forth for a bit, though Miles couldn't make it out.

"Hmm… I think it is clear that there is no need for us to continue this trial," the judge announced.

_I suppose you'll next announce that there's a continent to the west of Europe, Your Honor?_

Wright pounded on his desk. "Your Honor!" he begged. "A minute, please!"

"Y-Yes, Mr. Wright?" the judge replied.

"There are still a few points left that we have not fully explored!"

"What are you trying to pull!" Miles demanded.

"Oh… Well, we can't have that," the judge said. "Alright, Mr. Wright. What questionable point would you like to explore further?"

Wright hit his desk again. "Mr. Powers' testimony, of course!"

"Huh?" Powers yelped. "I know that my testimony was kind of shaky, but—"

"Objection!" Miles interrupted. "Your inanity stupefies me, Mr. Wright." _I know you want to draw the trial out, but could you please do it without demanding that testimonies be repeated enough for a parrot to be able to recite them?_ "We have already clarified all questionable points during the cross-examination just now!"

"Urk," Wright grunted.

"Wasting time like this, calling the testimony questionable… I'd say it's your head that's questionable here!"

"Aaah!"

"Yes, I agree," the judge said with a nod, writing down what was most likely a penalty for Wright. "The cross-examination went smoothly and there was nothing wrong with the testimony. Now then, I believe—"

"Hold it!" Wright yelled. "P-Please! Wait!"

"You are being very persistent today."

_If you don't have a good reason to keep going this time, I'm going to demand that you be held in contempt of court._

"I know my outburst just now was a little… questionable," Wright said.

"Questionable indeed," Miles agreed.

"But!" He paused to hit his desk again. "There really are some questionable points left to discuss, Your Honor!"

"What are you trying to pull!"

"Oh… Well, we can't have that," the judge said. "Alright, Mr. Wright. What questionable point would you like to explore further?"

"There was one thing in Mr. Powers' testimony that was very unclear," Wright said. "And that is the identity of the person who received the bear! 'He gave something to the person inside the room.' 'I'm sorry, but I only saw the person's arm.' As long as we don't know who it was that took the bear, we can't be sure of…"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaah!" Powers screamed, cutting Wright off. For a while, no one spoke.

_Everyone insists on wasting time, it seems…_

"Wh-What is it, Mr. Powers!" the judge finally asked. "If you're going to scream like that, at least give us a good reason why!"

"O-Oh, yeah…" Powers said sheepishly. "Sorry. Actually… So… I remembered. Um… I remembered who took the bear…"

"Wha—!" Wright yelped.

"Really!" the judge asked.

"I mean, I only saw his arm…" Powers admitted, "But… But… The arm… It was the Nickel Samurai's arm! I swear it!"

"YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING!" Wright screamed.

"Are you sure of that, Mr. Powers!" Miles demanded.

"Yeah!" Powers said. "I'm sure it was the Nickel Samurai!"

The gallery started up again, calmed down somewhat by three whacks of the judge's gavel.

"Order! Order!" he shouted. He looked at Wright. "It looks like you've dug your own grave… yet again."

_The only thing more repetitive than the cross-examinations…_

"So the person who took in this little bear was the Nickel Samurai," Miles said. "And, as we all know, Matt Engarde is the Nickel Samurai!"

The gallery was still quite noisy, though the judge did nothing this time.

"Thanks to the defense, we've made that all the clearer," the judge said.

"What am I supposed to do now!" Wright begged of his assistant. "Mia, help!"

"You don't have time to act lost," Mia replied. "You've got to find another angle to attack this from! Hurry!"

The judge banged his gavel. "Now," he said, "I will bring this cross-examination to—"

"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "Your Honor!"

"Again, Mr. Wright? "We've already removed any and all questionable areas of this testimony."

"It's about time you were removed from this court, Mr. Wright," Miles said.

Wright pounded on his desk. "There are… There are still questions left unanswered!"

"What are you trying to pull!" Miles barked. _Blast it! Now he has me repeating myself!_

"Oh… Well, we can't have that," the judge said for the third time. "Alright, Mr. Wright. What questionable point would you like to explore further?"

Wright hit his desk again. "I think it's fairly obvious that the bear itself is very questionable!" he insisted.

"The bear… Mr. Wright?"

"This was found at Mr. Engarde's mansion. However, Mr. Engarde was arrested at the hotel that night! Which means that since the murder occurred, he has not had a chance to go home!"

"Oh…"

"I think Your Honor has already figured out what I'm trying to say. It is not possible that it was Mr. Engarde who took this bear to his mansion!"

The gallery reached an intolerable level of noise, though the judge only required a single whack of his gavel to silence them.

"Wh-Why, that's very true!" the judge acknowledged. "We didn't consider that point, Mr. Wright! There was no way, timewise, for the defendant to have taken this bear home."

"Objection!" Miles shouted. He shrugged, amused. "Your haven't gotten the best of me yet, Mr. Wright."

"Huh!" Wright blurted.

"I remember it clear as day. I remember what you muttered to yourself at Engarde's mansion. 'I can't believe it… That butler… All this time, he was De Killer…' De Killer and Engarde were working together, so to speak." Miles struck his desk. "And De Killer was hiding at Engarde Mansion… as its butler."

"Wh-What a… bold move…" the judge commented.

"The bear figurine was brought back to Engarde Mansion by De Killer himself. When it looked like he was about to be arrested, Engarde had him do so. I assume because it would've been bad had the police found it during their investigation."

"Hmm…"

"Well, Mr. Wright?" Miles taunted. "You've been quiet for a while now…"

"I think we've hear enough," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "We now know why this bear figurine was at the defendant's mansion, as well as who it was that received the bear from the assassin in his room… Everything has become very clear. The client who hired the assassin to commit the murder was Mr. Matt Engarde! …I see no reason for this trial to continue. Therefore, I will now hand down my verdict!"

"Thank you, Your Honor, for understanding," Miles said, taking a bow.

_I do not know what you will think of me for my indirect role in Maya's death, Wright, but you should know by now that I will not let filth like Engarde escape justice._

"You see, Mr. Wright?" Miles continued. "You could not win against the truth, could you?"

"Any last objections, Mr. Wright?"

Wright was silent.

"I will now announce my ver—"

"Objection!" Wright interrupted.

_I think I know what you're going to do. Say what you will; for Maya's sake, I'll play your game, but in the end, I will not allow one innocent life to be sacrificed to save another._

"Your Honor," Wright said. "Right now, we have these two reasons to believe my client is a client of the assassin. Reason number one. He accepted the bear figurine from the assassin. Reason number two. That very same figurine was found at Engarde Mansion. However!" He paused to strike his desk. "It's possible this is all the work of a certain other person!"

"What are you saying…?" the judge asked.

"What I am saying is, it's possible a different person is De Killer's real client!"

The judge banged his gavel to silence the gallery. "The 'real' client…?"

"Yes."

"Tsk, tsk," Miles chuckled. "Is this all you have?"

"Now then, Mr. Wright," the judge said. "Let's hear your theory. Who do you say is the real client of De Killer, and therefore, the real murderer?"

"Take that!" Wright yelled, holding Adrian Andrews's photo.

"Adrian Andrews…!"

"Yes. We already know that she tried to frame Matt Engarde for the crime… By wearing a spare Nickel Samurai costume!"

"Ah!" Powers yelped. "Then… Then the 'Nickel Samurai's arm' that I saw…"

"That could have very well been Ms. Andrews!" Wright insisted over the gallery's comments.

"But what about Mr. Engarde?" the judge asked.

"If you would please recall yesterday's testimony, the defendant was taking a nap during the break period."

"That's right… Then… finding this figure at Mr. Engarde's mansion…?"

"It was a well-laid trap set by Ms. Andrews."

_Wright, I hope you understand just what you are getting yourself into… If, despite my efforts, Ms. Andrews is indicted, you will have to live the rest of your life with the knowledge that you knowingly, willingly, and intentionally sent an innocent woman to her death for a crime she did not commit. You do not strike me as the kind of man who could handle such a burden… For Ms. Andrews's sake and yours, I hope you abandon this path before it is too late…_

"Mr. Edgeworth…" the judge said, calling Miles's attention back to the present. "What is your opinion on this?"

_Other than that Wright is walking a very dangerous path in the wrong direction?_

"I can't even begin to count the flaws in the defense's logic," Miles said after a pause. "Besides which, there is no evidence to support it. However… I can't fully discount its possibility either."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled.

The gallery was rather vocal in its complaints. Miles paid them little mind; he knew what they were saying.

_There is no justification for what you are doing, Wright. Save Maya, but send an innocent woman to her death while allowing Engarde to prosper… or lose Maya, but see justice done. I'll play your game, Wright, but the price may well be your very soul…_

The judge finally banged his gavel to quiet the gallery down.

"Order! Order! Order!" he bellowed, his voice starting to show signs of growing hoarse. "All disruptive parties will be forced to leave the courtroom!"

"Your Honor," Miles called. "…For the benefit of the defense, I'm willing to play along with his 'what if' game.

"His 'what if' game, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"The prosecution is prepared to challenge the defense's theory."

Wright appeared surprised, but said nothing.

"Mr. Wright," Miles continued. "Even you must have thought it strange and wondered, 'Why would the criminal want this little wooden bear…?'"

"Why do you ask?" Wright replied. "Is there something special about it?"

"Absolutely. And I'm sure that once the court knows its significance, the true killer's identity will become crystal clear." Miles paused to strike his desk, turning his attention to the judge. "Your Honor! The prosecution calls upon a witness who will clear all doubts against Ms. Andrews."

"And who would that be!" the judge asked.

"It's quite simple, Your Honor. Ms. Adrian Andrews herself."

The gallery started up again, though the judge silenced them quickly. "I see… Well then, the court will take a short 10 minute recess. The prosecution will prepare its witness in that time."

"Yes, Your Honor."

The judge banged his gavel again.

* * *

"Is it over?" Ms. Andrews asked as Miles entered the prosecution lobby.

"No," Miles replied. "As I predicted, your testimony will be required again."

"What do you need me to testify about?"

"A bear figurine found its way from Mr. Corrida's hotel room to the defendant's house. As I understand, you bought that figurine for Mr. Corrida."

"I did."

"Do you have any idea why it was stolen, let alone why it was in the victim's room for the award ceremony?"

"I only have my suspicions."

"Would you mind sharing them with me?"

"…You know about Celeste's missing suicide note, right?"

"Assuming it exists, yes. Supposedly, the victim hid it."

"According to Juan, he hid the note in the bear… He was going to pose as Matt and read the note to the press."

"So Mr. Engarde had the bear stolen so he could get rid of the note."

"That's what I think," Ms. Andrews said.

"I see. Thank you. You will have to testify about that when court reconvenes."

Ms. Andrews nodded, but didn't respond. The lobby remained silent until Miles and Ms. Andrews were called back into the courtroom.

* * *

"Court will now reconvene," the judge said with a whack of his gavel.

"De Killer, the man who murdered the victim, handed this to his client," Miles said, holding the bear figurine. "From this, one obvious question arises. 'Why this particular item?' I believe the answer to that question will provide us with the name of the real criminal. Now then, the prosecution calls the defendant's manager, Adrian Andrews, to the stand!" Ms. Andrews took the stand. "Currently, the witness is accused of tampering and obstruction of justice. However, you have been called to the witness stand today to ascertain who exactly is guilty of murder."

"I understand," Ms. Andrews said.

"Very good. Miles indicated the bear figurine. "Now, have you ever seen this bear before, Ms. Andrews?"

"Of course I have."

"You have seen it before?" the judge asked.

"That's right," Miles said. "It's only natural that the witness has." He turned his attention back to the witness. "Ms. Andrews. Could you please enlighten the court to this bear's secrets?"

"Alright," she said. "Actually, this is an elaborate puzzle. If you know the correct order, it can be taken apart one piece at a time. At its center is a small cavity, with just enough room to store a small item. Because of its complexity, if you don't know the order, you can't open the bear. You really can't tell that it's a small 'jewelry box' just by looking at it."

"So this figurine… it's a container of sorts, is it…?" the judge asked.

"Yes. Looks can be deceiving, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes. This is superb craftsmanship." The judge glanced at Wright. "…Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. You may begin your cross-examination, Mr. Wright."

"It looks like there really was something to that bear after all," Mia commented.

"A puzzle?" Wright asked Ms. Andrews.

"That's right," she replied.

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled, the bear in his hands. "But it looks like an ordinary figurine…"

"So what kind of puzzle is this exactly?" Wright asked.

"If you know the correct order, it can be taken apart one piece at a time," Ms. Andrews repeated.

"So you can 'take it apart'? And how would one go about doing that?"

"Well, you first turn its tail to the right and then push it in."

"…Oh, yes, I see," the judge said, doing just that.

"After that, the arms and legs are free to move and can be removed."

"Ooh… This is most interesting…" The judge removed the arms and legs and continued examining the bear, apparently trying to figure out the next step.

_Part of me wants to raise an objection to the judge's behavior, though I'm sure he'd overrule it…_

"…Oh, don't mind me," the judge said, realizing that he was distracting the court. "Go ahead and carry on."

"So what do you find after you take the puzzle apart?" Miles asked.

"At its center is a small cavity," Ms. Andrews explained, "with just enough room to store a small item."

"And how do you know about this…?" Wright asked.

"I know because I was the one who bought it."

"Huh!"

"It was a souvenir from when a friend and I went to Switzerland."

"Then, this…" the judge cut in, still trying to take apart the bear, "this was a present from you!"

"That's right. It was a puzzle in the shape of a bear, so I thought it would be perfect for Juan."

"Witness, let's continue with your testimony," Miles requested.

"Because of its complexity," Ms. Andrews continued, "if you don't know the order, you can't open the bear."

"So who exactly knew how to solve this puzzle?" Wright asked.

"Only the two of us, Juan and myself. It was a souvenir from Switzerland… So I doubt there are that many people with this same bear in this country."

"But this looks like it can be easily broken," the judge said. "Especially if someone wanted to get what was inside."

_I can't help but worry that he will accidentally demonstrate just how easily it can be broken…_

"Well, it's a toy," Ms. Andrews explained. "But it can never be the same again once it's been broken."

"Who else knows that this bear is actually a small container, or 'jewelry box'?" Wright asked.

"I never told anyone. And as long as Juan never told anyone either, then only the two of us knew…"

"The two of you, huh… Then of course that means Mr. Engarde didn't know, right?"

_Considering his spying habits, I wouldn't be surprised if he found out on his own…_

Miles did his "evil smile." "Well, Mr. Wright?" he called. "I think even you have come to realize…" He trailed off, letting Wright finish.

Wright seemed puzzled, however.

"That there is one very important fact we have uncovered, and that is this: This bear is actually a 'jewelry box'."

"Hmm…" the judge murmured.

"Now that we have agreed to this point, there is only one logical question that can come next. And that is this: What is inside this box?"

"What's inside!"

"That's right. That's what we are going to find out next." Miles pointed at Ms. Andrews. "Witness."

"Yes?" she replied.

"You are the only one who can open this. Please…"

The judge, with a hint of reluctance, gave the bear to the bailiff, who handed it over to Ms. Andrews. After a few minutes, she reached the box on the inside and opened it.

"I've opened it," she announced, taking out a scrap of paper. "Is this what you wanted?"

"Wh-What is that?" the judge stammered. "It looks like a… note…"

"I don't think we need to guess at what that is…" Miles said as the bailiff handed him the note. "Do we, Mr. Wright?"

Wright didn't say anything.

"It's the suicide note," Miles continued.

"The suicide note?" the judge asked.

"The suicide note left by Juan Corrida's former manager, Celeste Inpax. Until now, no one knew of its whereabouts… but just as we suspected, it was hidden. Hidden by the victim, Juan Corrida himself. It seems Celeste Inpax had very beautiful handwriting. And she just as beautifully signed her own name on this document. This is most definitely the note she left right before she committed suicide!"

The gallery started up, though the judge silenced them with a whack of his gavel.

"O-ORDER!" he roared. "Witness! Did you know about this…?"

"…Yes, I did," Ms. Andrews admitted. "I heard all about it from Juan. When I discovered his body… I looked for the bear. I wanted to destroy the note before it became public. But… I couldn't find it anywhere."

"Because it had already been taken by De Killer," Miles explained.

Mia said something to Wright, though Miles didn't make it out, nor did he make out Wright's response.

"Now then," he continued, "I believe it is only appropriate the contents of this note be made known."

"I can't stop you, can I…?" Ms. Andrews sighed, audibly sad. "I went through so much… just to get my hands on it. And I was going to burn it… for her sake."

"I'm deeply sorry, but I can't allow you to persuade me to stop." He handed the note to the bailiff. "Your Honor. If you could please read the contents of the note aloud."

"Very well…" the judge said as he received the note. "'I have shown nothing but kindness to others in my life. I never did anything wrong, yet I still suffered. I found love in a man that I thought would always hold me dear. However, I found that he was just using me, and when the time came, he cast me aside as though nothing I had done had managed to touch him. Rather than hate him, though, I chose to move on. In time, I found a better man, one who truly loved me. We were to be married. But then Matt intervened and drove even Juan to leave me. Save for my life, I have nothing that Matt cannot take from me, and I have realized now that there is nothing he will not take from me. I cannot live such a life, one in which everyone and everything I care about is kept from me. With my death, at least, he can no longer hurt me.' …And that's all Ms. Inpax had to say."

The gallery's reaction was easy to hear; many people were openly voicing their anger toward the defendant.

"There is one thing I would like to say here," Miles said. "The prosecution has no interest in slandering Mr. Engarde."

"Then… What…?" the judge asked.

"Our intention, Your Honor, is to establish a motive for murder. Isn't that correct, witness?"

"Yes…" Ms. Andrews hesitated to reply. "On the night of the murder, Juan was going to make the contents of the note public. After the post-ceremony show… he was going to hold a press conference."

"My word…" the judge commented.

"Matt Engarde values above all else," Miles began, "his 'refreshing like a spring breeze' image. Which is why he had to stop this note from being made public…" Miles paused to strike his desk. "At any cost!"

The gallery's outrage toward the defendant was clear, though Miles also heard some of the observers speaking ill of Wright for defending Engarde.

"There is no margin for doubt here," Miles continued. "Mr. de Killer's client's goal was to obtain this suicide note. And the only person who needed this note that badly is the defendant. Let's not forget that the bear with the note inside was found at the defendant's house!"

The judge banged his gavel, silencing the gallery. "It seems that we have come to the truth at last," he said. "The defendant's motives were entirely selfish. He deserves no sympathy from anyone!"

"Urk…" Wright moaned.

"Why the hesitation, Phoenix?" Mia asked. "Gumshoe hasn't called yet, so you know what you must do."

_Don't blame yourself for this, Wright. Engarde alone bears the blame for Maya's death._

"The gavel is already in the judge's hand!" Mia snapped at Wright. "Phoenix! Hurry!"

"Objection!" Wright screamed, striking his desk as the judge was preparing to bang his gavel again. "Please wait, Your Honor!"

The gallery started up again. Wright ignored them.

"I think Your Honor believes that Matt Engarde killed in order to obtain this note," he continued.

"Yes, that is correct," the judge said.

"But that seems a little strange. In fact, I think there is a contradiction here! This note was hidden by Mr. Corrida until the night of the murder. If that is the case… I say that Matt Engarde could not have known what was written on this note!"

"Oh! I didn't think of it that way…"

"Exactly. But I did think of it that way, and I thought it was rather strange." Wright paused to hit his desk. "No one in their right mind would kill for a note without first knowing what it said!"

The gallery started up again, albeit without their earlier anger toward Wright and Engarde. Three whacks of the judge's gavel were sufficient to silence them again.

"Order! Order! Order!" he yelled. "Y-You make a valid point, Mr. Wright! Mr. Edgeworth! What is your opinion!"

_And I was willing to let the whole spying matter go…_ Miles took a bow. "I believe a show of appreciation is in order," he said.

"H-Huh?"

"The defense seems to be in love with wishing more despair upon itself." Miles paused and took out a spy camera and a bug sweeper. "I would like to direct the court's attention to this."

"What is that…?"

"It is a very small video camera, Your Honor. This type of camera is commonly used as a means of spying."

"S-Spying…?"

Wright had a confused look on his face behind all the sweat running down it.

"Matt Engarde and the victim both thought of the other as their biggest rival," Miles stated. "They even went so far as to use this type of item to find each other's weaknesses!"

"And…?" the judge asked.

Miles hit his desk. "The victim, Juan Corrida, was being spied on! His personal life was being watched by none other than Matt Engarde!"

The gallery started up yet again, and the judge yet again banged his gavel to silence them.

"Order!" he shouted. "Oooooorder! Ahem!" He glared at Wright. "Mr. Wright!"

"Y-Yes, Your Honor?" Wright stammered.

"You… Don't tell me you knew about your client's spying activities!"

"Well… sort of…"

"'Sort of' is not an acceptable answer, Mr. Wright!"

"I see you are confused, Mr. Wright," Miles cut in, stating the obvious. "You're probably thinking, 'But I have the camera that was in the stuffed bear's eye…' But this camera that I have is not that same one. Last night, I searched the victim's house on a hunch…" He held out the bug sweeper. "Using this… By the way, Mr. Wright. The defendant's fingerprints were found on this camera."

"Matt Engarde's fingerprints were on there!" the judge yelped.

Mia said something to Wright, who didn't respond.

"I think this is the end," Miles said. "It's fairly obvious that Mr. Engarde learned of the suicide note through this. He was watching the victim all along."

Mia and Wright said several things back and forth, though Miles couldn't make out what they were saying over the gallery's complaints.

"Alright, I think this time we finally understand everything," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. He looked to Wright. "Well, Mr. Wright? You don't have any further objections, do you?"

Wright pounded his desk. "…I have an objection, Your Honor," he said weakly.

Miles smirked. "Hmph," he scoffed. "That was about the weakest objection I've every heard, Mr. Wright."

"Objection!" Wright yelled, his voice echoing. "Your Honor! The defense has no intentions of letting this go so easily!"

_When do you?_

"You are beginning to sound desperate…" the judge commented.

_In other news, the world is round._

"That's just your imagination, Your Honor!" Wright insisted. He looked at Miles. "Mr. Edgeworth. This is not like you at all."

_What? What are you blathering about?_

"In your eagerness to prove your point," Wright continued, his confidence returning, "you've forgotten one very important thing."

"Hey, isn't that what I just said?" Mia commented to Wright.

"So, you're telling me that I forgot something?" Miles confirmed.

"You're so close, Mr. Edgeworth…" Wright said. "But there's something you should really examine about this piece of evidence!" Wright indicated Ms. Inpax's suicide note.

"That is… Ms. Inpax's suicide note, right?" the judge asked.

"Hmm… Who knows?"

_Of course…_

"I mean, sure, this 'suicide note' was found inside this bear," Wright continued. "But this bear was in my possession until a few moments ago. Which means…" He paused to pound on his desk. "The handwriting on this 'suicide note' has yet to be analyzed!"

"Oh…" the judge muttered.

_Damn it!_

"So!" Wright barked. "As to whether this pivotal piece of evidence was really written by Ms. Inpax or not…" He hit his desk again. "Has yet to be even remotely confirmed!"

The gallery started up, though the judge quieted them down with a few whacks of his gavel.

"M-Mr. Wright!" the judge stammered. "You can't seriously be suggesting…"

"Mr. Wright!" Ms. Andrews interrupted. "You… Are you saying this suicide note is a fake!"

_How the hell could you know that, Wright!_

"Ms. Andrews…" Wright called. "You were the one who tried to pin this murder on Mr. Engarde. Who's to say you didn't create a fake 'suicide note' and put it into this bear!"

"H-How dare you!"

"Objection!" Miles shouted, striking his desk. "Your Honor. The defense is indiscriminately accusing the witness again! There is no evidence linking the witness to the suicide note whatsoever!"

"Objection!" Wright barked back, also hitting his desk. "But if this is a fake, then the witness is the only person who could have made it!"

"What!"

"Recall the witness' testimony concerning this figurine! The only person other than the victim who could solve the puzzle is the witness herself!"

"Ahh!" Ms. Andrews yelped.

"Ms. Andrews!" Wright shouted, hitting his desk yet again. "You wrote this note, didn't you? You wrote it so you could use it to frame Matt Engarde!"

"I… I did no such thing!"

"Objection!" Miles yelled. "Wright! If you're going to pronounce this suicide note a fake…" He paused to hit his desk. "Then show this court some evidence to support your theory!"

"Objection!" Wright shouted back. "Mr. Edgeworth! You were the one who presented this scrap of paper as evidence!" He struck his desk. "That means the burden of proof lies with you, the prosecution!"

"Uuugn!"

"That's enough!" the judge cut in, banging his gavel. "Mr. Edgeworth. Can you confirm the handwriting on this suicide note…?"

"It is as the defense has stated!" Miles growled, slouching over his desk. "The handwriting has yet to be analyzed!"

"If that's the case… It seems that yet again we have reached a point where a verdict is impossible."

"Imposs… That's impossible!"

The gallery started murmuring.

"I didn't want to have to do this, but I don't have a choice," the judge said, shaking his head. "I request that both the prosecution and defense further investigate…"

The gallery was in an uproar. Anything the judge had left to say was cut off by their complaints. Regular cries of "Guilty!" rang out.

An electronic version of the Steel Samurai theme suddenly started playing loudly.

"Wh-What is that sound!" the judge roared over the gallery's veritable chant of "Guilty."

Wright picked up his cell phone.

_Are you seriously reduced to using a cell phone call to draw out the trial!_

"Hello!" Wright almost screamed into his phone. "Gumshoe!"

_Oh._

"Where's Maya!" Wright demanded. "What happened to De Killer!" Gumshoe's response was inaudible. "WHAT!" "A-Anyway, what's going on!"

Mia muttered something, implying she could hear what Gumshoe was saying.

"But…" Wright whimpered. After a moment, he held up the phone. "Do you hear that!" he said after bringing the phone back down to his ear. "They're calling for his head!" There was a long pause. Miles thought he heard Gumshoe say something. "Wh-What is it!" "I-I can't do that!"

The judge banged his gavel. "Mr. Wright!" he shouted. "Would you please get a hold of yourself!"

"Y-Yes, Your Honor," Wright said, putting the phone down.

"I am about to end today's proceedings. You may take your phone calls after…"

"Hold on, Your Honor!" Wright shouted, hitting his desk. He threw the phone to Miles. "Edgeworth! Catch! Take that!"

"Mr. Edgeworth!" Gumshoe cried as Miles caught the phone.

_There's only so fare you can push me…_

"Please!" Gumshoe begged. "You've got to buy us some more time!"

"Court is in session," Miles said after a pause, ending the call. He looked to the judge. "I'm sorry, Your Honor. You were saying?"

"Mr. Wright!" the judge snapped. "This is a court of law!"

"I'm sorry, Your Honor!" Wright squealed. "But…!"

The judge cut him off with a whack of his gavel. "I am reluctant to do this, however… It appears that I have no choice but to suspend proceedings until tomorrow!"

Wright collapsed.

_Maya probably won't survive another day…_

"Court is now adjourned for the day!" the judge announced as the gallery started up again.

"Objection!" Miles shouted. "Please wait, Your Honor."

"Wh-What is it, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"I humbly request another 30 minutes of Your Honor's time."

"For what purpose?"

"We can perform the necessary tests on this piece of evidence in that time!"

"Hmm… But can you really obtain your results in 30 minutes?"

"I believe we can, Your Honor."

"But wouldn't it be better if we adjourned for today and then reconvened tomorrow…?"

"Thirty minutes," Miles said sternly, hitting his desk. "Please, Your Honor. That's all I am asking for."

"Please!" Wright pleaded, pounding on his own desk. "Your Honor!"

"…Very well," the judge said. He banged his gavel. "At the prosecution's request, this court will now take a 30 minute recess. But be advised that I will not allow another recess today. The court will now take its final recess of the day!" He banged his gavel again.

* * *

Miles escorted Ms. Andrews back to the prosecution lobby without a word, then walked quickly to the defendant lobby.

"Wright!" he called as he burst in. "Well! What's going on with Maya's situation!"

"De Killer…" Wright managed to say. "It looks like he got away again. Thirty minutes…? We can't find her in that time…"

"Unnngh…"

_I had a feeling it would end this way, but how should I break it to—_

Miles's train of thought was derailed by Wright's phone ringing. The screen displayed Gumshoe's number.

_I forgot I even had the damned thing…_

"Report!" Miles ordered as he answered the phone. Wright hovered close to Miles so he could hear what Gumshoe had to say.

"Ah!" Gumshoe yelped. "I-Is that Mr. Edgeworth1?"

"We don't have time! Just spit it out!"

"R-Right! It looks like we just missed them, sir. But De Killer left a few things behind by accident in his rush to get away."

"A few things…?"

"Can we use any of them as evidence?" Wright asked.

"Ho ho ho," Gumshoe chuckled. "I thought you'd ask, pal! I've got the things he left with me right now and I'm on my way over!"

"Really!"

"That's odd," Miles commented. "Any items like that are usually sent to the crime lab first…"

"We don't have time to wait for those guys, sir!" Gumshoe snapped. "When those guys weren't looking, I swiped the stuff and ran!"

"What!"

"Well… I'm not a detective anymore, so I had to… I'm really sorry, sir, but I've got to put the law on hold for now! With my hunk of junk car, I'd say I'll be there in about 20 minutes, sir! Don't worry! I'll be there! Wait for me!"

"A-Alright… Just get there in one piece."

"I'm on a mission and no one can stop me now, sir! No one! I'm pulling out all the stops and running every red light!"

_Gumshoe, if these things help, I'll make sure to clear up any problems the department will have with what you're doing…_

A loud crash resounded over the phone.

"Hey!" Miles barked. "What's wrong! Detective Gumshoe! Answer me!"

"…No one can stop…" Gumshoe said over loud static. "I'm…"

The phone cut off, beeping.

"Wh-What happened?" Wright asked.

"It sounded like he had an accident," Miles said. "I'm guessing his cell phone broke as well."

"Wh-What was he thinking? We've got to hurry and call for help!"

"But we have no idea where he is. His cell phone is broken, and he wasn't driving a patrol car, so no radio either. Also… If we don't get to those items before they do, the police will take possession of them."

"No! We can't let that happen!"

"Well, if there is a way we can find out where he is, then we stand a chance…"

_But I don't see how we could reach him…_

"That's right!" Wright recalled. "There is a way!"

"What!" Miles grunted. "How!"

"I'm sure we can find out where Detective Gumshoe is through this…!" He took out Franziska's photo.

_I'll choose not to ask why you have a picture of her…_

"Why are you bringing up Franziska at a time like…" _Wait… wasn't she tracking him? _"Oh, I see! I'll try to get in contact with her. The chances are slim, but she's all we have…"

"Edgeworth…" Wright muttered.

"What is it?"

"I don't have any right to judge anyone ever again…"

_Now is not the time for this, Wright._

"I know my client is guilty," he continued. "But what I'm doing now… I'm pinning the guilt onto someone totally innocent, and using the evidence to do so…"

_You can curse yourself after the verdict is read, Wright. You can curse me, too, if you want._

"It might be my turn to say, 'Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright chooses death'…" he said.

"Wright," Miles snapped. "It doesn't suit you to cry useless tears. Whether you did your job well or not… That can only be seen after the verdict has been decided."

"The verdict…"

"Is Prosecutor Edgeworth here!" the bailiff called.

"Yes, bailiff?" Miles replied.

"There's a phone call for you, sir. They said it was extremely urgent."

"They're probably finished with the handwriting analysis," Miles explained to Wright. "I have to go take this call. In the mean time, think hard about what it is you must do."

Miles left and returned to the prosecution lobby. The telephone receiver was sitting off the hook on the couch.

"This is Edgeworth," Miles said, picking the receiver up.

"Mr. Edgeworth, we have the results from the handwriting analysis," a voice on the other end said.

"And?"

"The handwriting appears to be that of the victim, Mr. Juan Corrida."

"WHAT!" Miles slumped onto the couch.

"A-A more detailed analysis has yet to be carried out, but we are certain that this note was not written by Ms. Inpax."

"I see… What about Ms. Andrews?"

"What about her, sir?"

"Is there any possibility that she wrote the suicide note?"

"No, sir. The note does not resemble her handwriting in the slightest."

"Very well," Miles said. "Please have the note returned to court. Considering the circumstances, a more detailed analysis will not be necessary."

"Yes, sir."

Miles hung up, then took out his cell phone and called Franziska.

"What do you want?" Franziska demanded as she answered the phone.

"There are some important pieces of evidence that Gumshoe just recovered," Miles said.

"Are you just calling to gloat, Miles Edgeworth!"

"Please let me finish. Gumshoe was on his way to the courthouse when he got in an accident. We have no way to find him… and if we can't get the evidence here quickly, the trial will end prematurely."

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Because you have a way to find him. We need your help, Franziska. You're the only person who can deliver that evidence now."

"You take my case from me, and now you want me to deliver evidence for you?"

"This evidence may well be what gets Engarde convicted in the end. If he is found guilty, it will ultimately be thanks to you."

"He would have been convicted sooner had I prosecuted," Franziska spat.

_So much for the flattery approach…_

"Would you have a scheming killer like Engarde go free just because you were not the one to prosecute him? As things stand, Adrian Andrews will probably be convicted in his stead if this evidence is not delivered. This isn't just about you or me, Franziska. As prosecutors, it's our duty to make sure the guilty are convicted and justice is served. However you think you may have insulted your profession by being defeated in court, know that it would be a far greater insult to stand by and do nothing when you are the only person who can keep an innocent person from being convicted. If Ms. Andrews is convicted, her blood will be on the hands of many people, you among them. Would you allow this to happen just to satisfy a grudge against me and Wright?"

Franziska didn't respond for a while.

"Franziska!" Miles called.

"I'll do it," she replied. "Don't forget what I'm doing for you."

"I won't. And don't think it's for myself that I'm asking you to do this."

"Don't let a verdict be read until after I've arrived." Franziska hung up.

_Thank God… With luck, the evidence won't be necessary, but knowing the way things work out when Wright is involved…_

"Mr. Edgeworth!" a patrolman called. He was holding a two-way radio. "Someone arrived a moment ago and asked for this to be delivered to you. They said it relates to the case."

"How so?" Miles asked.

"They said to turn it on…"

"Well, what are you waiting for? You're the one holding it."

The patrolman turned on the radio after setting it down. For a moment, there was no response.

"Is this the prosecutor in Mr. Matt Engarde's trial?" a voice asked over the radio.

"Yes," Miles replied. "What is this about? Who are you?"

"Please excuse me for not remembering my manners, but I am not in a position to disclose my proper name. You may call me Shelly de Killer."

"De Killer!" Miles motioned for the patrolman to leave.

"You know of me, yes, Mr. Prosecutor?"

"Are you calling to taunt me!"

"I am simply offering my assistance in bringing this trial to an end. …Or has it already ended?"

"No verdict has been given yet."

"Then allow me to rectify that problem. My client, you see, has done something that I cannot tolerate."

"Explain. I have difficulty believing there is much a professional murderer would consider below him."

"I have my honor, Mr. Prosecutor. Though I cannot expect a man of pure law and good such as yourself to understand, there are certain things my clients are expected to do in exchange for my services. My client has overstepped his boundaries and attempted to implicate someone else in the murder of Juan Corrida."

"Are you going to tell me that the earth orbits the sun next? What's your point?"

"My point is that I no longer feel obligated to protect my client," de Killer explained. "As such, I am willing to testify to the court as to his identity—provided this radio's signal is not traced. I do not believe I have to explain to you what kind of a man Mr. Engarde is."

"You need not. However, there is something that will need to be established if you are to testify: that you are, in fact, Shelly de Killer."

"Please excuse me for a moment."

_What could that be about?_

"My apologies for the wait," de Killer said. "I recognize your voice, Mr. Prosecutor. You were there when I called Mr. Wright last night."

"What of it?" Miles asked.

"You don't need to feign ignorance, Mr. Prosecutor. I'm sure Mr. Wright has told you that I have a hostage. You have certainly pressed your luck with me. Imagine what could have happened…"

"Ugh…" Maya groaned over the radio.

"Taunt me some other time, de Killer," Miles spat. "I accept that you are who you claim to be."

"Please contact me again when I am needed," de Killer said. The signal stopped.

_I suppose I should be thankful that Maya will be safe… After all, if de Killer is willing to turn on his client, he has nothing to lose from Engarde being convicted. Still… It would probably be better if this could end without his help. Not to mention I haven't had a chance to tell Wright that Maya's—_

"Mr. Edgeworth!" the bailiff called. "You're needed in court!"

_I guess Wright will have to find out the hard way… This is not going to be pleasant…_

* * *

"Court will now reconvene," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "I assume both sides are ready?"

"Y-Yes, Your Honor…" Wright stuttered, visibly worried about how things were going to turn out.

"Y-Yes, Your Honor…" Miles said through gritted teeth, furious at the possibility of having to rely on an assassin to get Engarde convicted.

"…I can understand the defense acting like this," the judge commented, "however, why do you also seem distraught, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"I… that is…" _Calm down. We're finally at the end._ Miles stood up straight and gradually exhaled through his nose. "It's nothing, Your Honor."

Miles thought he heard Mia say something.

"Now then, Mr. Edgeworth," the judge said. "If you could please tell the court the results of the handwriting analysis on Ms. Inpax's suicide note…"

"Y… Yes, Your Honor," Miles replied. "Unfortunately… We have discovered that this suicide note is a forgery."

"What!" Wright snapped.

"What do you mean, Mr. Edgeworth!" the judge demanded.

"This… This note was not written by Ms. Inpax herself!" Miles stated, striking his desk in annoyance. "It is a fake!"

The gallery began murmuring again, though the judge was quick to respond with three whacks of his gavel.

"Order! Order! Order!" he shouted. "Mr. Edgeworth! Would you care to explain what is going on! If this was not written by Ms. Inpax, then who wrote it!"

"We would need more time to do a more detailed analysis," Miles answered, "however… It appears that the handwriting matches that of the victim, Mr. Juan Corrida."

"Mr. C-Corrida…?" Wright stammered. Mia said something, though Miles didn't bother with it.

"However!" Miles continued, striking his desk for emphasis. "Your Honor. Even though this suicide note is indeed a fake, Mr. Engarde could not have known that, and so that facts remain unchanged!" _Urk… "fact remains", not "facts remain"…_ "Acting under the assumption that it was real, he had plotted to possess it!"

"Hmm… That does sound very plausible," the judge agreed.

_It wasn't as I had hoped, but it appears this is sufficient to put an end to this accursed trial…_

"Hmm… Actually," the judge said, "there is something I would like to ask. Mr. Edgeworth. You had stated something earlier to the effect of the defendant had spied on Mr. Corrida's private life…"

_Damn it! How could I have not realized that!_

"I believe this would mean that he would have known about the note as well…?" the judge continued.

"Yes, and so naturally…" Wright added, pausing to pound on his desk, "This means Mr. Engarde would have known that the note was a fake!"

"Uungh!" Miles grunted.

The gallery started up, though the judge banged his gavel and quieted them down.

"Order! Order!" he yelled. He then glared daggers at Wright. "See here, Mr. Wright!"

"…Um, yes Your Honor?" Wright squeaked, sweating.

"I was the one who thought of the spying thing! Jumping in and stealing my thunder like that is simply… I can't even describe it!"

"Ah, yes… Sorry…"

"I could've even bragged about embarrassing Mr. Edgeworth to my grandchild had you not… For that, I assign you a penalty, Mr. Wright!"

"Whaaaaa!"

_Of all the things to assign a penalty for…_

"So then," the judge said with a whack of his gavel, "the defendant knew this suicide note was a fake. And if that's true, then the situation has suddenly changed in a very dramatic way."

"Exactly, Your Honor!" Wright agreed. "The prosecution's theory as to what Mr. Engarde's motive for murder was… It has suddenly disappeared into thin air!"

"But Your Honor!" Miles countered. "It's not as if Mr. Engarde monitored Mr. Corrida 24 hours a day!" He struck his desk. "Perhaps the victim wrote that note in a place Mr. Engarde didn't know of!"

"Well, right back at you, Mr. Edgeworth! Why don't you show us some proof that the victim made the forgery at an unknown place!"

"Gnnngh!"

The gallery again started up. The judge banged his gavel.

"Order! Order! Order!" he shouted before turning to Miles. "…Mr. Edgeworth. It looks like this time, it is you who has dug his own grave."

"Unnnngh…" Miles growled. "As I figured…"

"Huh? …As you figured…?"

"As I figured… It came down to this after all…"

"Mr. Edgeworth, you are not making any sense…"

"When I heard the results of the handwriting analysis, I thought this might happen. The question is… 'What next?'"

"What next…?" Wright echoed.

"If the prosecution can't prove Mr. Engarde's motive through the evidence, then we must prove it through another angle."

"Well, I agree with you there…" the judge said.

"Your Honor. The prosecution… would like to call a witness to the stand at this time…"

"Oh. Well, that's fine."

"However… this witness… This witness is a little… unusual…"

_I can't believe I have to do this…_

"Unusual?" the judge asked. "Well, what sort of witness is this person, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"This witness is one who is perfectly fit to answer once and for all the question of, 'Who was it that hired Shelly de Killer to commit murder?'" Miles explained.

"That's impossible!" Wright yelped. "Who in the…! No such person exists who can answer that question with such certainty!"

"Y-Yes!" the judge stammered. "Mr. Edgeworth! Who is this witness!"

"It is…" Miles stuttered. "It's… um…"

"Yes! Go on! Who is it!"

Miles struck his desk. "The man himself… Mr. Shelly de Killer."

"Oh, Mr. de Killer. … W-W-Waaaaait! Shelly de Killer!" The gallery started up, though the judge ignored them for once. "Um, you mean… The killer? Err… I mean the assassin?"

"Yes… Your Honor."

"He's coming here? To the witness stand…?"

"Well, yes, in a manner of speaking… I recognize that this is a very unusual circumstance, so I ask for your permission."

"Hmm… Well, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked, turning to Wright.

"Y-Yes?" he replied.

"Is this alright with you?"

"The defense has no objections, Your Honor."

"I wonder if it really is alright to do this…?"

Miles struck his desk. "Very well then," he said. "The prosecution calls our witness to the stand!"

The bailiff took the radio to the stand, turned it on, and set it down on the edge.

"Now then, witness," Miles said, not entirely sure if the radio would pick up his voice at such a distance. "…Um, your name… and your, uh… occupation, please."

"Very good, sir," de Killer replied over the radio. "My name is Shelly de Killer, and I am a professional assassin."

"I… I say!" the judge barked. "Wh-What is going on here!"

"Your Honor?" Miles asked.

"How can you remain so calm? And what is the meaning of this two-way radio…?"

"Actually, Your Honor, it was delivered to me just now… And it came with a condition. As long as we do not trace its source, Mr. de Killer will testify to the court."

"Oh no, this will not do. I cannot allow this in my court. First of all, we can't even be sure this is really Mr. de Killer himself!"

"Witness," Miles said to de Killer. "Please present some sort of proof that you are in fact Shelly de Killer."

"I understand," de Killer answered. "Please wait a second."

"I'm… sooo… hungry…" Maya moaned over the radio.

"M-M-Maya!" Wright stammered.

"Maya!" Mia cried.

"A… A voice!" the judge exclaimed. "Mr. Wright! Can you confirm anything from this!"

Wright pounded on his desk. "The defense has no objections to this person!" he shouted, pointing at the radio. "We are satisfied that this man is indeed Shelly de Killer!"

"It looks like we have run into yet another unexpected turnoff events…" He paused to bang his gavel. "Well, it doesn't seem like we have too many choices under these circumstances, so…"

"…Now then, witness," Miles called. "There is one thing I would like to confirm before we speak of anything else."

"And what would that be?" de killer asked.

"At the request of a client, you killed Mr. Juan Corrida. Is this correct?"

"… It is as you say. I did indeed kill Mr. Corrida."

"Now that we have answered that, let's move on to the name of your client!"

"…Very well."

_And make sure you give Maya something to eat when this is over!_

"This is all just a bad dream…" the judge said to himself. "Yes, that's it, a bad dream…"

_How I wish it was…_

"There is something I must first state," de Killer testified. "To an assassin, nothing is more important than the trust between a client and himself. And that is the reason I am here today on this witness stand. It is my wish that you grasp this concept before I give the name of my client."

"Hmm, Mr. de Killer seems to be a very clever man," the judge commented. "I'd almost say he seems to be mocking us."

Miles did his "evil smile." "While he may appear to be our enemy, Your Honor, Mr. de Killer is only stating the truth. He is no hypocrite. He has always stood by this one belief." _Though I think anyone would prefer a hypocrite to a murderer…_

"You mean about this 'trust between his clients and himself' thing? Hmm, it seems to be a level of trust beyond what people like me can comprehend." He looked at Wright. "…Well, Mr. Wright? Are you ready to cross-examine the witness?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said. Mia said what must have been some words of encouragement, though Miles didn't make them out. "The trust between you and your client…?" Wright repeated to de Killer.

"I provide my services in a fast and efficient manner," de Killer said. "In exchange, I trust that my clients are discreet about me and my identity. If too many people knew my face, it would be quite troublesome."

"And that is why you're testifying in this manner?" the judge asked.

"This is the first time one of my clients has ever been accused of murder. I must preserve the de Killer name so my clients can trust me."

"But couldn't someone stab you in the back and break your trust?" Wright asked.

"It has never happened before, but if it ever did…"

"Y-Yes…?"

"That person wouldn't be my client for very long. They would certainly…"

"Th-That's enough!" the judge interrupted. "Please, no more!"

"Very well. It was only a hypothetical anyway."

"That seems a little strange to me…" Wright said. "I mean, you're about to tell us the name of your client. I would think that this would be very bad for them."

"It doesn't matter to me," de Killer replied. "This client has already broken the rules and acted outside of their prescribed role."

"Their role…?" the judge asked.

"This person tried to implicate another of the crime in order to save themselves. And this is a trespass that cannot be forgiven."

"You… Who gave you the right to be so high and mighty…!"

"To the gentleman who spoke just now… Excuse me, but would you care to die?"

"Ah, no! No! I, uh, didn't say anything!"

"The trust between you and your client…?" Wright repeated.

"I provide my services in a fast and efficient manner," de Killer explained again. "In exchange, I trust that my clients are discreet about me and my identity. These are the roles and duties an assassin and his client are to carry out."

"I'm sorry, but I was wondering about something you just said. You said that your client had already 'broken the rules'…"

"A person who frames another is the worst kind of human."

"And that's why you feel you can betray this person?"

"I have no trust relation with a client who can't understand their assigned role. Now then, everyone. Do you think you can understand my logic? If you can't then I'm afraid we can't proceed…"

"Everyone understands your point, I think. Really."

"In that case… I believe I am prepared to disclose the information you seek."

"You have made it crystal clear that you value trust over all else," Miles said. "I believe we are ready."

"…Excellent," de Killer said. "Now then, I do believe it's about time I revealed the name of my client, don't you agree?"

Wright pounded on his desk, but said nothing.

"What is it?" the judge asked.

Wright was still silent, clearly hesitant._ Don't worry, Wright. Maya is safe._

"If you can't ask it, Mr. Wright, then I will," Miles said. He pointed at the radio. "Witness!" He paused to strike his desk. "What is the name of your client who requested the murder of Mr. Juan Corrida!"

"That person's name is…" De Killer paused. "…Adrian Andrews…"

"!" Miles, Wright, and the judge screamed simultaneously.

"Objection!" Miles roared. "W-Witness!" He struck his desk again. "That's not who you told me it was earlier!"

"Pray tell, what are you talking about, Mr. Prosecutor? I should think I know my own client, and it is Adrian Andrews."

"Whaaaaaaaat!" _You bastard! I've met politicians who are more honest than you are!_ "Th-This can't be! On the phone earlier…" _You just… Argh! No word in any language I know can describe how despicable you are!_ "Objection!" Miles barked. "This… This is outrageous! I was deceived!" He pounded on his desk. "This witness is telling a very serious lie!"

"B-But you were the one who summoned this witness!" the judge stammered.

"Grk! Grr… Y-You… Shelly de Killer…!"

"My testimony is the truth," de Killer said calmly over the gallery's murmurs. "The defendant at the moment is Matt Engarde, am I correct? All I wish to do is help procure his acquittal."

"H… Hmm…" the judge grumbled. He paused to bang his gavel. "The prosecution has failed to provide a motive and has instead, provided this suicide note, which is a forgery created by the victim. Furthermore, there is a possibility the defendant himself knew it was a fake. But most definitive of all, we have heard from the assassin himself; the name of his client. Mr. de Killer's client who requested the murder was not the defendant at all!"

"…No…" Miles gasped.

"With all this evidence, it is obvious to me that this means that Mr. Matt Engarde… Is innocent!"

"I seem to have caused you all a bit of confusion," de Killer said. "Please, continue your discussion, and call me when you have reached a verdict."

"Bailiff!" the judge called with a whack of his gavel. "Please bring Ms. Adrian Andrews in immediately!"

"What now?" Mia asked Wright. "With the way this is going, Engarde will be found innocent. This may be our last chance… to save Maya…"

_Grr… And if de Killer was plotting to implicate Ms. Andrews, that means he will still kill Maya if Engarde is convicted…_

"Yeah… But…" Wright stammered. "But Edgeworth is right. De Killer is lying! And Engarde… my client… I know he's guilty!"

"Who would've believed that the prosecution's own witness would absolve the defendant!" the judge exclaimed with another whack of his gavel.

"Your Honor!" Miles barked, striking his desk. "The prosecution requests permission to further question the witness! Shelly de Killer is certainly lying under oath!"

"Hmm…"

"It wasn't me!" Ms. Andrews cried as the bailiff brought her in. "Listen! Everyone! Please! That testimony just now… It was all one big lie!"

"Ms. Andrews…" Wright sighed.

"The suicide note may have been a fake. But! That man… Matt… He's the reason Celeste died! And Juan's death… It was all because he got pulled into Matt's twisted world! That testimony just now… You have to believe me… It was a horrible, horrible lie…"

_I know._

"But… Mr. de killer himself has testified…" the judge countered. "He has named you as his client."

"No!" Ms. Andrews cried. "That's not true!"

"Also, there is quite a bit of evidence that points to you. The knife and button, donning the Nickel Samurai's costume…"

"But that's… That's…"

"You even have a motive. We know that Ms. Celeste Inpax was a large part of your life. You wanted to follow her… And you wanted revenge against the two who hurt her. I would say you have plenty of reasons to want them both dead."

"I… No…" She glared at Wright. "Mr. Wright! You… You know the truth! Tell them! Tell them the real story… Who the real killer is… Tell them! Please… Help me…"

_When she was testifying last year… trying desperately to protect Ema… This must have been how Lana felt on the inside… The only difference is that she was begging herself to say these things…_

"Mr. Wright," the judge said with a whack of his gavel.

"Yes, Your Honor?" Wright replied.

"I believe we have reached the end of this trial. Therefore, I ask the defense for any final words or opinions."

"Phoenix…" Mia sighed.

"I can't do it, Mia…" Wright said. "I can't accept a not guilty."

"You are a lawyer."

"I know. But… But Matt Engarde is a killer; a murderer! I can't… I can't let him get away with this. I can't let someone else take the fall. If I let Ms. Andrews be convicted, then I am no better than Engarde. And even though I don't want to admit it, I have to face the fact that it is because of Edgeworth that I now know the real truth. He could've gotten Engarde convicted so many times over, but he never took a single one of those chances. If I take this verdict right now… I'd be betraying his trust." He paused.

_So you finally see it, Wright. You finally understand…_

"Mr. Wright," the judge called again, banging his gavel for emphasis. "Your opinion, please."

"The defense requests that we be allowed to further question Mr. de Killer," Wright said.

"A-Am I hearing you correctly, Mr. Wright!"

"Wright…" Miles managed to say.

"But… But…" the judge stammered. "That witness has cleared your client through his testimony! Your job here is done!"

"I'm not done yet," Wright said. "To see through this witness' lies and find the truth… THAT is my job, Your Honor!"

_Perhaps my prediction was wrong. It appears I am going to enjoy this…_

"Very well," the judge said with another whack of his gavel. "The trial will continue. Mr. Edgeworth. Please re-establish connection with Mr. de Killer."

"Right away, Your Honor!" Miles replied, taking a bow. The bailiff ran off to get the radio, coming back with it rather quickly and placing it on the stand.

"…Has a verdict been reached?" de Killer asked.

"Before that, we would like to talk with you a little more," Miles said.

"About? All you needed from me was the name of my client. What else could you need me for?"

"Well… Actually, we would like to hear everything you know about this case. That is how things are… usually done."

"But… What shall we have him testify about now?" the judge asked.

"Mr. de Killer," Miles continued. "If you don't mind, please testify about your client in more detail."

"You legal people and your procedures," de Killer complained. "Is it any wonder no one likes to go to court?"

_I can't say I enjoy hearing about murders, but this kind of thing has to be done… lest the United States have its own Timothy Evans._

"As I have already stated quite a few times," de Killer testified, "Adrian Andrews is my client. However. One thing I simply cannot overlook is tampering with the scene of the crime. My client did it to frame another for the crime. While pretending to be the first person to discover the body and enter the scene, Adrian Andrews already knew from the very beginning that Juan Corrida was dead! But even more appalling is the creation and planting of the 'knife' and 'button'. That act is what I was referring to when I said my client had 'broken the rules'."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "This is a most unexpected turn of events… For the… um, fifth time now…? However, this time, everything has finally been revealed."

"Objection!" Miles barked, striking his desk. "Just a second, Your Honor!"

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"We still have the cross-examination to do…"

"But you don't need to question testimony like this…" He turned to Wright. "Do you, Mr. Wright?"

"… Your Honor, the defense will question the witness," Wright said.

"Huh! Why! What this witness has said is nothing but beneficial to the defense's case! If you scrutinize his testimony, then…" He paused, shaking his head. "I don't understand what's going on anymore…"

There was an uneasy silence over the courtroom as Wright looked over the testimony.

"Thank you so much for taking the time to testify, Mr. de Killer," he finally said, his tone a confident one.

"What is the meaning of that attitude?" de Killer asked.

"When Adrian Andrews entered the victim's room," Wright continued, pausing to strike his desk, "your 'client' had no idea that Juan Corrida had been murdered!"

"But how…" the judge gasped. "How do you know that!"

"From this wine glass, Your Honor," Wright replied, indicating the glass Ms. Andrews had left at the crime scene.

"The glass…"

"Mr. de Killer's supposed client thought Mr. Corrida had only fainted. Which is why this glass of tomato juice was poured for the victim!"

"Hmm… But isn't that just a part of Adrian Andrews' calculated plan?"

"That is not possible, Your Honor. this glass bears the fingerprints of that person. Had this been planned, they would never have left their fingerprints behind!"

"I see your point…" the judge said, turning to Miles. "Mr. Edgeworth! What is your opinion?"

"Strangely enough… I had the same exact thought just now," Miles said. He hit his desk. "Witness! How do you explain this strange phenomenon!"

"I-Isn't it a waste of time to ask about such a minor detail?" de Killer asked. "It's not a very important point anyway, correct…?"

Miles did his "evil smile." "I'm afraid you are mistaken. If Adrian Andrews really is your client, as you claim… Then your client should have had knowledge of Mr. Corrida's death. If not…" He paused to strike his desk. "Then that can only mean that Adrian Andrews was never your client at all!"

The gallery started up, though they quieted down on their own.

"How strange…" de Killer said after a pause.

"Yes?" the judge asked.

"Why is it that the attorney has yet to raise an objection at this absurd situation…?"

Mia whispered something to Wright, who said something back.

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "Mr. Edgeworth! I'm surprised! You know you can't say things like that without any evidence."

"Ah… Sorry," Miles said. _I'll let it go for now, if only to buy time for Franziska to arrive…_

"Th-That sounded like an awfully weak 'Objection!' to me…" the judge commented.

"Anyway!" Miles cut in. "I am positive there was a contradiction in that testimony. The prosecution requests further testimony concerning when the request was taken!"

"Very well," de Killer said after a pause.

_Wright, you had best be careful what you ask. If de Killer realizes our plan, Maya is doomed._

"This request came to me… oh, about a week ago," de Killer said. "It was a request for my services on the night of the awards ceremony. We met at a certain bar to discuss and finalize a few matters. That is what occurred. I trust my memory, and I believe I have made no mistakes."

"Hmm… So you physically met your client, huh?" the judge confirmed.

"That is correct. Meeting one's client is the first step to building trust, in my opinion."

"I see…" He looked at Wright. "Well, Mr. Wright, your cross-examination, please."

"One week ago?" Wright asked de Killer. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am quite sure," de Killer said. "I, of course, had my own preparations… And I was barely able to finish. When you request my services, Mr. Attorney, I hope you will keep that in mind."

"Please… stop…"

"In any case, my client this time had a very specific date and time in mind."

"Did you ask why on that specific night?"

"No. I try to fulfill all the conditions of my clients' request. But as for why, I only had my suspicions."

"So what are these 'suspicions' you had? Why did your client request that night…?"

"I'm sure it was all for the bear."

"The bear…?"

"My client spoke of it. 'I'm sure there will be a bear-shaped figurine in Juan Corrida's room. I would like you to retrieve that item for me.'"

"Inside that figurine was a suicide note," Miles explained. "Naturally, the victim brought it with him to his hotel room. He was planning to publicly disclose its contents at the press conference, after all."

"That is correct," de Killer said. "And if I had not done the job that night, I would not have known where that bear figurine was…"

"Well, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Was the testimony just now of any importance?"

"The testimony just now has made one thing clear," Wright said. "And that is…" he paused to hit his desk. "The 'client' knew the secret of the bear figurine!"

No one replied. _I know you're trying to buy time, Wright, but I'd prefer if that time was not wasted._

"Huh…?" Wright muttered, noticing the silence. "Why is everyone so quiet…?"

"Mr. Wright," the judge called. "I think all of us already knew that."

"O-Oh, really?"

"Witness, please continue with your testimony," Miles said to de Killer.

"We met at a certain bar to discuss and finalize a few matters," de Killer repeated.

"So you physically met Adrian Andrews, right?" Wright asked.

"… Of course I did."

"Witness! I would like for you to give us a few more details."

"I always meet my clients as a matter of principle. I have never taken a request by telephone or mail."

"And why is that?" Miles asked.

"That's because I value the trust between a client and myself above all else," de Killer explained. "And the only way to establish that is to speak to the client while looking them in the eye."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "Well, Mr. Wright? Was the testimony just now of any importance?"

"Why he meets his clients is not important," Wright said. "And that wasn't the point. Witness, please stop side-stepping my questions!"

"Wh-What do you mean by that?" de Killer stammered.

"My question was 'Did you really meet Adrian Andrews in person?'"

"I have already told you, Mr. Wright. I did. It was only through talking with him face to face that I began to trust him. That's when I thought, 'I can trust this person as a client.'"

"Hmm… It's true what they say about talking face to face," the judge agreed.

_I can't help but question that, considering how many people have lied to another person's face…_

"Well, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Was the testimony just now of any importance?"

"Your Honor," Wright called. "I believe the testimony just now was of the utmost importance."

"Huh? Really?"

"If that's the case…" Miles said. "Witness, please include the statement just now in your testimony."

"Very well," de Killer replied. "From the moment I saw him, I thought, 'I can trust this person as a client.'"

"Objection!" Wright yelled. "I would like to go over this one more time. You met Adrian Andrews at a bar and took the request at that time?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"And that's when you thought 'he' was trustworthy…"

"How many times must I repeat myself? Yes, that is correct."

"I'm sorry, but that is an impossible tale."

"Wh-What!"

"Shelly de Killer." Wright paused to pound on his desk. "You have never met the real Adrian Andrews!"

"Wh-Why would you say that…?"

"Because you made one very big slip-up… …about her."

"So what is the issue…" De Killer paused when the problem occurred to him. "Wh-What did you say just now…? About 'her'…?"

"If you had ever met Adrian Andrews in person…" Wright paused again to hit his desk. "One look would have told you that she is a woman!"

"Ohoooooo!" The radio's outer casing burst off.

The gallery started up, though the judge banged his gavel and quieted them down.

"O-Order!" he yelled as the bailiff put the radio's casing back on. "Order in the court!" He turned to Wright. "Mr. Wright! What is the meaning of this!"

"This witness testified to the following: That he always meets face to face with his clients when taking their request," Wright said.

"But he has never met Adrian Andrews in person…"

"Yes, Your Honor!" Miles replied. "That is exactly the point!" He struck his desk. "That means Mr. de Killer's client could not have been Ms. Adrian Andrews!"

"Ugnnn…" de Killer groaned as the radio began leaking some sort of brown liquid. The gallery started up again.

_I shall consider the quality of this radio representative of just how much you respect the courts, Mr. de Killer._

"Mr. Edgeowrth… I understand your logic on this one…" the judge said. "However… Why would the assassin make such a basic mistake?"

"I believe it has to do with her name, Your Honor," Miles suggested.

"Her name?"

"Yes. Adrian Andrews is, without a doubt, a very androgynous name."

"Hmm… Yes, I see…"

"Unluckily for Mr. de Killer, the entire time he was on the stand, no one had stated Adrian Andrews' gender. And so, he simply picked the wrong gender to go with."

"Wh-What… What is going on…?"

The gallery got noisy enough that the judge saw fit to bang his gavel again.

"Shelly de Killer!" he roared at the witness. "This court demands an explanation!"

"Umm… I-I think somehow… I must have mixed up this client with another," de Killer lied.

"So does that mean you remember something different now?" Miles taunted.

"Yes, of course. Please, if you would allow me to testify once more…"

"Very well," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "But this time, please give us the truth, and nothing but the truth!"

"Yes, now I remember," de Killer testified as the radio stopped leaking. "I took that request by mail. There have been times when I took a job without having met my client. The request was for the murder of Juan Corrida and 2 or 3 other small things. When I saw the name at the end of the letter, I thought my client to be a man."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "So you took this job through a letter…"

Mia said something to Wright, who said something in response.

"Now then, let's begin the cross-examination," the judge continued.

"Two or three other things…?" Wright asked de Killer after looking over the testimony.

"Yes," de Killer replied.

"And what were these 'other things'?"

"A few other things that have nothing to do with this case."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled.

"Whether or not they're related to this case is for the court to decide," Wright insisted.

"…Mr. Attorney," de Killer growled.

"Y-Yes?"

"Everything I have said from the beginning has been nothing but beneficial to your client. Which is why I wonder what is pushing you to continue with this cross-examination. Could it be…" The radio began giving off steam and jumping, yet it miraculously never fell off the stand. "That you are planning to betray your own client…?"

"Th-That's…"

"I smell the stench of a back-stabber."

_Said the pot to the kettle…_

"And should you turn out to be one…" de Killer continued.

"W-W-Wait!" Wright interrupted. "Witness, this is a very important matter. Please cooperate and tell us what these other 'jobs' your client requested were…"

The radio stopped giving off steam. "If it's truly that important, I suppose I don't have much of a choice," de Killer sighed. "The bear figurine."

"The bear figurine…?"

"After the assassination of the target, I was to find that figurine. I was told that this job was just as important as the actual killing."

"And… Where was that figurine…?"

"It was inside Mr. Corrida's suitcase."

"And then… what did you do next?"

"I handed it over to my client right away."

"You gave it to your 'client'… Interesting."

"Hmm… This information certainly sounds important to me," the judge said to de Killer. "Witness, please include what you just stated in your testimony."

"As you wish," de Killer replied. "One of these was to find the bear figurine and to give it to Adrian Andrews."

"Objection!" Wright shouted. "Shelly de Killer. If you had really given the bear to Ms. Andrews… then this item should not have been inside it." He indicated the fake suicide note.

"'This item'…?"

"I see where you're going…" Miles commented.

"Yup that's where I'm going…" Wright said.

"Where is everyone going!" the judge asked. "Do I need to pack a suitcase?"

"Your Honor. Please think back to Ms. Andrews' testimony. 'And I was going to burn it… for her sake.'" Wright pounded on his desk. "If even for a single minute, this bear had actually been in Ms. Andrews' hands… I'm sure she would have taken the suicide note out and burned it!"

The gallery started up.

"Order! Order! Order!" the judge roared, banging his gavel with each shout of "Order!". "So that's where you two were going!"

"So by the very fact that this suicide note was still inside the bear…" Miles said. "Tells us that your 'client didn't know how to disassemble the puzzle!"

"Wh-Which means…?"

Miles struck his desk. "It means, Your Honor, that it is impossible for Adrian Andrews to be the 'client'!"

"Ohoooooo!" de Killer screamed as the radio's casing burst off again.

The gallery started up again and the judge banged his gavel again.

"O…Order!" he shouted as the bailiff again put the casing back on. "Order! ORDER!"

The radio began giving off steam again. "Ungh…" de Killer growled. "Mr.…Phoenix Wright… I… I'm sure I mentioned this before. How I hate traitors above all else!" The radio jumped on the word "traitors".

_It looks like this is the end… Wright, don't blame yourself for this._

"I think your cross-examination has clearly demonstrated something to me," de Killer continued, the radio jumping several more times. "You… You must wish to break your end of our agreement!"

"No!" Wright cried. "That's not…"

"That's enough! If that is your intention, then there is only one thing for me to do!"

Wright pounded on his desk. "W-Wait! Please!"

"Gentlemen, ladies, please excuse me. I have a matter that I must attend to."

"Hold it!" Wright begged, pounding on his desk again. "N…No… Please… Not that… Please wait…"

"Mr. Attorney! Bring this trial to a speedy end, and I may stay my hand! Otherwise…"

"Nnnngh…" Wright collapsed, his head in his hands. "!"

The gallery started up again. The judge did nothing, too shocked by Wright's reaction to bang his gavel.

"What in the…?" he stammered. "Mr. Wright…? Are you…?"

_It appears Franziska could not arrive in time…_

"Mr. Edgeworth…? the judge called.

"Yes, Your Honor?" Miles replied.

"I didn't understand the witness' outburst just now. Do you think there is a need to hear more testimony, or is this enough…?"

"Well… We should…" _Would de Killer give more testimony if we asked? I doubt it, but it's worth a—_ Miles noticed the pleading look on Wright's face. "U…Ungh! The prosecution…" _I… think I understand, Wright. …You love her, don't you?_ "I…"

"Wh-What has come over everyone?" the judge stammered. "Even you are…"

"The prosecution… rests." _I'll let you carry the burden, then. But know this, Wright: while you cannot be blamed for Maya dying… if Ms. Andrews is sent to her death, her blood is just as much on your hands as it is on Engarde's._

"What is going on around here…?"

Miles struck his desk, regaining his composure. "The prosecution has no further questions, Your Honor."

"Wh… Whaaaaaaaat!" the judge screamed as the gallery got even louder. "Well, I never thought I'd see the day. This is a most unusual situation… If the prosecution rests with no further questions… Then… the prosecution has failed to uphold its stance."

_It's time to see just what kind of person you are, Wright. Since you asked for this burden, I can no longer save you if you make a mistake._

"If that is the case," the judge continued, "then even though I am reluctant, I must believe that Mr. de Killer's testimony is accurate. That would mean that Shelly de Killer's client is… Adrian Andrews!"

Miles collapsed onto his desk, his arms barely managing to prop him up. "Nnngh…" he growled.

"Mr. Wright!" the judge called.

"Y-Yes, Your Honor?" Wright replied.

"If I end the trial here, right now, then your client, Matt Engarde, would be declared innocent. And in his place, Adrian Andrews would be charged with murder." He paused to bang his gavel. "The prosecution has no further questions, so we will no hear the defense's final remarks. Bailiff! Please bring the defendant, Matt Engarde, to the stand!"

The bailiff escorted Engarde to the stand. He maintained his guise of innocence as he set down the glass of chocolate milk he had been holding.

"Dude, did the old guy finally decide?" Engarde asked.

"To be honest," the judge said before Wright could reply, "I can't think of you as a truly innocent and good person. You have done enough evil to drive a woman to suicide."

_He's done far more than that, Your Honor, and if I was wrong to entrust his fate to Wright, he will get away with all of it._

"But…" the judge continued. "At least on the charge of murder, it would appear you are innocent."

"Hah…!" Engarde chuckled. He swept back part of his hair, revealing a scar on his face that looked like the work of an especially angry cat. Following that, he picked up his glass of milk and began swirling it around. "So, I guess even the old fuddy-duddy figured me out!"

"M-Mr. Engarde…?"

"You were atrocious as a lawyer, weren't you?" he taunted Wright. "Giving your client away like this! And that 'refreshing like a spring breeze' crap; it's just as atrocious, don't you agree?"

_You are the most atrocious thing of all…_

"Anyway," he continued, "get on with it and pronounce me innocent already. Right, Mister Lawyer!"

_Your time is up, Wright. You asked for this choice… now prove to me I was right to give it to you!_

"Now then, Mr. Wright," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "Let's hear the defense's final statements on this matter. If the person who hired the assassin was Adrian Andrews… Then your client, Mr. Matt Engarde is innocent."

"Hmph…" Engarde scoffed. "There's no need to ask, old man. After all, my lawyer is going to say what I want… aren't you?"

"Wright…" Miles warned.

"My client…" Wright struggled to say. "Matt Engarde is…" He trailed off, apparently unable to speak.

"We are waiting for your answer, Mr. Wright!" the judge barked. "Matt Engarde, your client deserves an answer!"

"Matt Engarde is…"

A whip cracked, cutting Wright off.

"Objection!" Franziska shouted as she burst through the doors.

"F-Franziska von Karma!" Wright stammered.

_Thank God…_

"Wh-What are you doing here…" the judge managed to say before the edge of Franziska's whip struck him. "OWW!"

"You see now, don't you… Mr. Phoenix Wright?" Franiska gloated. She held up her tracking device. "This is exactly why you should NEVER take your eyes off of that scruffy fool!"

"Did you bring them?" Miles asked. "The final pieces… Do you have them?"

"You should know better than to ask that, Mr. Miles Edgeworth. A Von Karma is perfect in every way! The evidence is here n perfect condition! Don't worry about Scruffy. He's fine, and his injuries are minor."

_Good. He deserves as much after what he's been through…_

"All of the items are inside this," Franziska continued, holding up Gumshoe's trench coat, which had been tied up like a bag.

"What a filthy, old coat this is…" the judge commented.

"I apologize for its ugliness, but there was nothing else to wrap the items in."

Wright pounded on his desk, revived. "Your Honor!" he shouted. "Inside that filthy coat… Are the defense's final pieces of evidence!"

"Your final… evidence!"

The gallery started up again, though the judge did not bang his gavel.

"This trial is already over," he said after a pause. "All that remains is for me to hand down my verdict. I do not believe that any evidence presented now, would change the outcome of this trial."

_No! We can't be stopped now!_

"Objection!" Miles shouted, striking his desk even harder than Wright had a moment ago. "Your Honor. It is our duty to examine every piece of evidence, down to the last. I request that Ms. von Karma be allowed to present these pieces of evidence!"

"Hmm…" the judge grumbled. "I suppose you are right, Mr. Edgeworth. I grant permission to do so."

_Thank God…_

"However, this one rule applies here," the judge continued. "If these items do not bring up any new points, then they will not be accepted by this court. Now, Ms. von Karma. If you please."

"These pieces of evidence are items left by De Killer during his escape from the police," Franziska explained.

"Hmm… He must have been in quite a rush."

"Yes, Your Honor. De Killer left three pieces of evidence." She paused and took out a handgun. "The first item is a pistol."

"Please present the next piece of evidence," Wright requested.

"The second piece of evidence is this video tape," Franziska continued, taking out a videocassette.

"Have you checked the contents of that tape?"

"Unfortunately, there was no time to."

"Oh yeah…"

"But I would speculate that this tape is very important."

"Why would you say that?" the judge asked.

"Because he came back to his hideout for it," Franziska answered.

"De… De Killer went back for it…?" Wright asked.

"That's right. It looks like he was trying to recover it. He injured three of the officers at the site."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled.

"But somehow, it looks like they managed to protect it from De Killer. Shelly de Killer is no ordinary man." She put the videocassette down and took out what looked like a bellboy's uniform from the Gatewater Hotel. "The last piece of evidence is this bellboy's uniform."

"Was that used during the crime?" Wright asked.

"I am almost certain it was," Franziska replied. "There's even a pair of black leather gloves in one of the pockets."

_Then there's no doubt that de Killer wore that uniform…_

"There's one thing I found interesting about this uniform," Franziska continued.

"And what is that?" Miles asked.

"There is a button missing on this uniform."

"A button…?"

"It's a very unique button. I'm sure if we were to recover it… It would provide us with an interesting clue."

"Hmm…" the judge mumbled.

"That is all I have to present, Your Honor."

"Hmm… It's just as I thought."

"And… what is that, Your Honor…?" Wright struggled to ask.

"I'm sure, were we under normal circumstances, these items from Shelly de Killer's hideout would be very important clues. However… Our question is not 'Who did the killing?'"

"It is, 'Who is the client?'…" Miles finished.

"Yes, that is correct. And these three items do not tell us anything about that!" The judge paused to bang his gavel. "Thank you for your hard work, Ms. von Karma. You may step down now."

"Hold it!" Wright begged. "Wait, Your Honor!" He pounded on his desk. "Please allow me to examine this new evidence!"

"Overruled. This court already has all the evidence it needs to hand down a verdict!"

"Wonderful…" Engarde snarled. "Absolutely splendid. This judge is such a brilliant man, isn't he?"

"Phoenix," Mia called.

"I knew it…" Wright whimpered. "There's no such thing as a 'miracle' in this world, is there?"

"I think you're wrong. I think they do exist."

_He's not God. A miracle, by definition, is something that would not normally occur under any circumstances. If Wright gets out of this, it will be incredible, but it will be no miracle._

"But you have to make that 'miracle' happen," Mia continued. "You've come this far! You can't give up now!"

"But… But… No matter how you think about it… It's… It's…"

"Try… For my sake. Just think about it for a second. There are two ways out of this situation for us. The first… Make Engarde wish from the bottom of his soul for a guilty verdict."

"Huh?"

"De Killer will always place his client's wishes first. If Engarde himself wishes to be convicted, then he will let his hostage go."

"Th-That may be true, but… That's asking me to do the impossible!"

"The second way… Force De Killer to end his contract with Engarde. If De Killer were to no longer think of Engarde as his 'client'… Then he would let Maya go."

"Mia!" Wright cried, hitting his desk. "That's even more impossible! He is a man who values his duty towards his clients above all else!"

_She's right, Wright. Even though they both seem impossible, they're our only way out!_

"I know both of these seem like impossible feats at first," Mia said, echoing Miles's thoughts. "But if you could make either one happen, it would truly be a 'miracle'."

"The bigger problem is," Wright replied, "the judge has already said he doesn't need any more evidence! The pieces he was just shown; he's not accepting them!"

"Phoenix. Think things through from the other side. Isn't that what has always worked for us?"

"You mean… to turn things around?"

"Phoenix. The judge says he doesn't need the evidence. If that's the case, then who does need it?"

_That's a good question. A better question, though, Mia, is since you seem to know what to do, why the hell are you not doing it!_

"The defense, prosecution, and the judge…" Mia continued. "We have seen all the pieces of evidence. And that is how we have come to know the 'truth'. But there are people who have not seen them all. And those people to not know the 'truth'. That truth… It may be what will bring about the miracle in the end."

The judge banged his gavel, apparently through letting Wright and Mia continue talking. "There are no objections this time, correct?" he asked. "Now then, I will pronounce my verdict!"

"Why don't we all respectfully sit back and listen, kids," Engarde said.

"Objection!" Wright shouted.

The judge shook his head. "I have already told you, Mr. Wright," he said. "This court does not need any more evidence."

Wright pounded on his desk. "I am not saying it is us that needs the evidence, your Honor!" he shouted.

_So you have it, do you? I should hope you do…_

"Then… you want to show the evidence to… that person…?" the judge asked, probably choosing not to name "that person" because he did not know who Wright meant.

"Yes, Your Honor," Wright said with a nod. He hit his desk again. "Please, Your Honor!"

"Mr. Wright. For you to ask with such passion… I will grant you one chance. Please show your evidence to who you think is the right person."

"Objection!" Miles shouted, striking his desk. "That's impossible! To turn this situation around in one try…"

"One try. That is all I will permit."

_I tried… Wright, this is all up to you now. For Ms. Andrews's sake… and for Maya's sake… you better not fail!_

"Now then, Mr. Wright," the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "Let's not waste any more time. Who would you like to show evidence to?"

"Take that!" Wright shouted, tossing a profile to the judge.

"I see. And now… Tell this court what one piece of evidence you would like to show this person!"

"Take that!" Wright yelled again, holding the videocassette.

"Well, what do you think, Mr. Edgeworth…? the judge asked as the bailiff handed Miles the profile.

_Shelly de Killer… Is it that hard to say a name, Wright? Still…_

"Uh…" Miles stuttered. "Um… I think there is some merit… in showing this evidence to that witness."

The judge banged his gavel after a moment. "Bailiff! Bring in the transceiver from earlier!"

The radio was brought in, already on.

"Maya…" Wright said. "She's OK, right!"

"Didn't I tell you to concern yourself with bringing about a speedy end to this trial?" de Killer asked. "Now, if I understand correctly, you wish to show me one piece of evidence?"

"Yes. One is all I need." Wright held up the videocassette. "I have here a video tape. It was found at your hideout."

De Killer didn't respond.

"I heard you injured three officers in your attempt to get this back," Wright continued.

"That was most regrettable," de Killer said. "However, it was an order from my client. I was told to protect that video tape. I'm afraid I seem to have failed in that regard."

"Do you know the contents of this tape?"

"I was sternly told by my client to not watch it. So I have absolutely no idea."

_In that case, I would think it safe to say that it's the tape of the murder._

"Actually, you are on this tape," Wright said.

"Me?" de Killer asked.

"There was a video camera hidden at the crime scene. Your actions were being recorded."

"Wh-What!"

"Is that true!" the judge cut in. "Mr. Wright!"

"Who…" de Killer stuttered. "Who was it that planted a camera…!"

"Well," Wright replied, "the only person who could have placed a camera at the scene of the crime… would be your 'client' naturally."

"Th-That was… Adrian Andrews…" the judge stuttered.

Miles struck his desk. "Be quiet and listen… Your Honor," he ordered.

"Yes, sir."

"Your 'client' specified a place and time for you, isn't that right?" Wright continued.

"Y-Yes…" de Killer admitted.

"That was so they could film you."

"I had no idea," de Killer said after a pause. He was silent for a moment. "Mr. Wright. Why would my client do such a thing?"

_I can only think of one reason… Wright, you have done well. I can see now how we can end this properly._

"I would like to know why…" de Killer continued.

"There is only one reason why your 'client' would secretly film the crime scene," Wright said. "They…" He trailed off and hit his desk. "Your 'client' once told me something very interesting. We were talking about you, and this is what they said. 'But I'm no weakling. I don't believe anyone… least of all assassins.' 'Oh, come now, Mr. Wright. Assassins aren't above blackmail.' 'Yes, that's where the video comes in. With that, I can keep him at bay, and even blackmail him if I want.' Your 'client' didn't trust you at all. They were thinking of using this video to blackmail you!" He pounded on his desk. "What do you have to say to that, Shelly de Killer!"

"Gnnn…nnnngh…" de Killer growled, the radio leaking again. "Ohoooooo!" The casing burst off again and the gallery started up.

_Game over, Engarde. Few victories have been more satisfying than this one._

"It looks like…" de Killer managed to say after the casing was put back on. Steam was coming out of the radio again. "It looks like I was being deceived from the very beginning…"

"Yes…" Wright agreed. "By a natural… that is the kind of person they are. Your 'client' is a person who only thinks and plots of how to use the people around them to protect themselves from any and all dangers that may arise. That is the true nature of your 'client'."

"I have one question for the witness," Miles said.

"Yes?" de Killer asked.

"You told us one thing numerous times during your testimony. You said that you detest traitors most of all."

"Yes, that's right."

"But what if that traitor was your own client…?" Miles paused to strike his desk. "What would you do then!"

"… That's obvious. I would break our contract in that case. And then… That client would become my next target. For the honor of the De Killer name, even if it takes an eternity… I would follow that person to the ends of the earth to exact my punishment."

"I see," Miles said, doing his "evil smile." "That's all I wanted to know." _Considering the sentence almost certainly awaiting Engarde, I can't say I particularly care whether it is de Killer or the state who ultimately takes his life…_

"Mr. Wright," de Killer said.

"Yes…?" Wright responded.

"My contract with my client is over as of now. I seem to have a new job on my hands. I will now return to you, your precious item."

"…What the!" Maya shouted over the radio. "I'm not an item!"

_Finally… Yet again, Wright, you have saved a life where I would not have. This was no miracle, but it was truly impressive._

"Um…" the judge mumbled. "This trial appears to have come to its conclusion… However… I… Actually, I am sort of… I don't quite know what just happened there with the client and the witness and…" Franziska cut him off with her whip. "Gwaaah!" His head darted back and forth as he tried to figure out where the whip had come from. "M-Ms. von Karma! Where did that…!"

"She always has you in her sights," Miles said. _Considering what that man put me through, I wouldn't mind whipping him myself…_ Miles struck his desk. "Now! I do believe it's time to finally hand down a verdict!"

"Mr. Engarde," Wright taunted his client, who was sweating artillery shells. "It looks like somehow, you got what you wanted. You will finally receive the acquittal you wanted so badly. You should be happy."

"But before that," Miles added, "I would like to make one final statement. "Sometime in the near future, one very betrayed assassin may appear before you. Needless to say, that man is very good at what he does." He indicated the videocassette. "I'm sure you would understand what I mean, if you watch this video." _As I understand, your rival was a Senior Level Sambist. Yet de Killer still killed him with only a scarf. I wonder how well you will fare…_

"…H— Help me…" Engarde squeaked.

Miles struck his desk again. "Now then, Your Honor!" he called. "The verdict, if you please."

"I-Is this alright with you, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked.

"We have finally reached the end of a very long battle," Mia said. "Whether he's convicted or acquitted, there is no escape for him now. Go on, Phoenix. Plead whichever way your heart tells you."

"Right, Chief," Wright replied. He looked at Engarde. "…Matt Engarde. Even though I am a lawyer, I cannot make your crime disappear. I think a guilty verdict is appropriate here."

"M-Me!" Engarde stammered. "My wonderful self…! G-Guilty!"

"Even if you got an acquittal, the instant you set foot outside the detention center, your life would be in danger. No matter which way you look at it…" Wright paused to strike his desk, then pointed an accusing and satisfied finger at Engarde. "You can't run away from your crime anymore!"

"!" Engarde screamed, scratching his face vigorously. "Guiltyyyyyyy!Guuuuuilty!GGG—Guuiiillltyyyy!GGGUUUILLLTYYY!GUILTY!GuiLTy!guIIIltYY!Guil—guilty!guilty!GUilTY!GUILTY!" Miles thought he had heard the judge declaring a guilty verdict, though Engarde's screams drowned out most of what the judge said. After falling silent, Engarde was escorted toward the doors by the bailiff, his face bleeding profusely from his scratching it.

Miles motioned for the bailiff to come to him.

"Please leave Ms. von Karma in charge of this filth," he whispered to the bailiff. "She will keep a good eye on him while we finish up in here."

The bailiff nodded and motioned for Franziska to follow him as he left the courtroom with Engarde.

"As always, it looks like we have uncovered the real truth," the judge said.

_Says the man who contributed nothing…_

"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge called. "How is Matt Engarde?"

"I have left Ms. von Karma in charge of his incarceration," Miles stated. "I'm sure he's getting a full-course meal of whip leather right about now."

"Very good." The judge turned his attention to Ms. Andrews. "That was a close one, wasn't it, witness?"

"Yes…" she replied. "I plan to pay my debt to society for my own crime, Your Honor." She fell silent and hung her head.

_It's nothing you can't handle. Were Lana here, she'd be able to tell you as much._

"This trial was the first time I had stood on the witness stand," she continued, "and when I did… I really felt hopeless. But… after that, when I was alone at the detention center… that's the first time I really saw myself and who I am." She paused. "And today… When the two of you used your combined strength to convict Matt…" She paused and smiled brightly. "I… I felt like I had finally been saved."

_A smile second only to Lana's… It's astonishing, how much this case reminds me of Lana's trial…_

"I am really happy that you two were in charge of this case," Ms. Andrews said. "I really don't know how to express how I feel at this moment… This is… This is the first time I've felt comfortable with myself; with who I am. Thank you so much, everyone!"

"It looks like we have resolved everything at last," the judge announced. "As for myself, there are still a few things I'm confused about… But everyone seems to be in good spirits, and that is good enough for me. That is all. This court is adjourned!" The judge banged his gavel a final time.

* * *

Miles returned to the prosecution lobby and recoiled in horror at the sight awaiting him: Engarde was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, not moving. Powers had collapsed onto the sofa, his face extremely pale. Franziska was gripping her whip tightly.

_Oh, dear…_

"He's still alive," Franziska said. "Not that he deserves to be. He lost consciousness after only a few lashes, the weakling."

Miles breathed a sigh of relief as four guards entered and carried Engarde out to receive medical treatment.

"Are you going to be alright, Mr. Powers?" Miles asked.

"I… I-I think so…" Powers managed to say.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that."

"I-It's nothing, really…"

"Are you sure? You're as pale as a ghost…"

Powers sighed. "I-I'm sorry… When Ms. von Karma started whipping Matt like that… I just…"

"There's no need to apologize," Miles interrupted. "It's my fault for asking that Ms. von Karma handle Engarde's incarceration. If I had remembered that you were in here, I would have asked for Engarde to be taken somewhere else."

"I-It's okay…"

"I'm going to keep an eye on Engarde," Franziska said, excusing herself.

"S-So… Maya…" Powers stuttered, tears welling up in his eyes.

"She's safe," Miles said. "Engarde dug his own grave by plotting to betray de Killer."

"R-Really?"

"I expect I will be called any moment with word that she is being driven here. Of course, Ms. Andrews will still have to serve her time in prison for her actions…"

"O-Oh…"

"But she seemed much more satisfied with herself. I believe she'll leave prison a much happier woman than she was when this case started."

"That's a relief… I just… I remember how… distant she was…"

"_Славься, славься, наш Русский Царь!_

_Господом дан__—_

"This is Edgeworth," Miles said, picking up his cell phone.

"Sir, we have found Ms. Maya Fey," a patrolwoman on the other end said.

"Tell Nick I'm okay!" Maya shouted in the background.

"We're on our way to the precinct—"

"Actually," Miles interrupted, "please take her to the courthouse."

"Sir?"

"Some people who care about her are waiting here. There's no point in making them wait to see her any longer than is necessary."

"Understood, sir. We'll be there momentarily."

Miles hung up. "Well, Mr. Powers," he said, "if you'll excuse me, I must go tell Wright the good news."

"Okay," Powers replied, leaving.

"Ah! Wait!" _I shouldn't pass up this opportunity…_

"Hm?"

"My soon-to-be sister-in-law is a big fan of the Steel Samurai. Since I have you here right now, do you think you could sign an autograph for her?"

Powers smiled, blushing slightly as Miles handed him a pen and a piece of paper. "S-Sure. What's her name?"

"Ema."

"Um… How is that spelled?"

"E-M-A."

"Okay." Powers wrote the autograph and handed it back to Miles.

"Thank you. I'm sure she will be pleased."

Placing the autograph in his coat pocket, Miles left the prosecution lobby and walked to the defendant lobby.

"Wright!" Miles called, entering the lobby.

"E-Edgeworth…" Wright stuttered.

"I have good news. Maya is now safe in police custody!"

"Really!" Pearl almost cried.

"P-Pearls—" Wright stuttered.

"You're telling us the truth, right Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Y-Yes…" Miles replied. "She's quite safe. She is on her way here as we speak in a patrol car."

"Aaaaaaaaah! Mystic Maya! Mystic Maya's safe! You did it! You really did it, Mr. Nick!" She punched Wright hard in the arm. "I… I believed in you. I kept saying to myself: Mr. Nick will save her… Mr. Nick will save her… Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Pearl burst into tears.

"Ah, um… Thanks," Wright muttered, blushing.

"Oh…" Pearl gasped, calming down. Miles followed her gaze.

_Franziska…_

"What's wrong?" Wright asked.

"Ms. von Karma…" Pearl said.

Franziska approached Wright, but didn't speak.

"Um…" Wright managed to say. "About earlier… Uh… Thanks…" Franziska whipped him. "OWW!"

"Why are you still smiling… Mr. Phoenix Wright!" Franziska demanded. "You… You lost! Your perfect win record has now been crushed! And yet… You are still happy!"

_She was certainly quick to forget what I told her…_

"I don't think you'll ever understand… Ms. von Karma," Wright said.

"How dare you!" she snapped.

"Don't worry," Miles said. "She may in time. After all, I was like that myself, until a year ago…"

"E-Edgeworth…?" Wright stammered.

"For my own personal victories… and for guilty verdicts… I used every dirty trick in the book. And so my win record remained spotless. But… A man appeared and stood fast against that selfish me. I fought him in my usual manner, and tasted my first defeat. I felt like I had lost everything because of that. And then… It was my turn to sit in the defendant's chair. And I was saved… by that person I called my 'enemy'…" _Yes… Twice, I suppose, if not even more than that… To think I once fought so blindly… and so selfishly… Innocent people have surely suffered because of me… _"I couldn't forgive myself for all that had happened. So I left the Prosecutor's Office. And I left that note… 'Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death'…"

"Hmph, as well you should have," Franziska scoffed. "A prosecutor who has shamed himself with defeat should crawl into a hole and die!"

"…But that was not what happened." _And I should hope you do not follow your own suggestion, Franziska._ "After I left the Prosecutor's Office, I finally came to realize something. And it was in that moment of clarity that everything began to change."

"Wh-What foolish nonsense…"

"We prosecutors use anything we can to attack the defendant. But every time we did so… No matter how desperate the situation… instead of giving up like most people, that man would hold strong with his undying faith. And then, before I knew it… I began to trust in that man as well."

"Wh-What! You trusted your enemy!"

_It appears Wright's faith is rubbing off on me… In due time, Franziska, I believe you'll understand just who the "enemy" is… _"It doesn't matter how many underhanded tricks a person uses… The truth will always find a way to make itself known. The only thing we can do is to fight with the knowledge we hold and everything we have. Erasing the paradoxes one by one… It's never easy… We claw and scratch for every inch. But we will always eventually reach that one single truth. This I promise you."

"The 'truth'…" Pearl repeated.

"Yes. That's the reason why prosecutors and defense lawyers exist. But I'm sure you knew that already, didn't you Wright? That's why you couldn't forgive me; this man who went into hiding. Isn't that right? This man who only had his sights set on 'victory', who ran away into the night…"

"Ah! Is… Is Mr. Edgeworth right, Mr. Nick…!"

_You didn't see me when I was like that, Pearl. Count yourself lucky._

"When you disappeared, I felt… betrayed," Wright said. "The reason I decided to become a lawyer to begin with… Was because I believed in the things you said to me, all those years ago… And you… You betrayed your own words. That's why… one year ago, I made up my mind. I decided that the Miles Edgeworth I knew had died… …At least, that's what I told myself."

"You pathetic fool!" Franziska spat.

"M-Ms. von Karma…" Pearl stuttered.

"I don't want to hear the wretched whimpering of a disgraced loser! A Von Karma is someone who is destined to be perfect! Miles Edgeworth… You are no longer worthy! You are no longer worthy of being a Von Karma! And neither am I! It's over… It's all over!" She threw down her whip and something else and stormed out of the room.

"This is… an electromagnetic receiver," Miles said, picking up the object.

"Isn't that the thing she used to track Detective Gumshoe…?" Wright asked.

"I'll return this to the precinct later. There's something else…" Miles picked up the whip.

"Ah!" Pearl exclaimed. "Isn't that Ms. von Karma's whip!"

"'I'll never set foot in another courtroom again'… I'm sure that's what she's saying by this action…" He handed it to Wright. "You should keep this, Wright."

"Umm… OK," he said after a moment of hesitation.

"Nick!" a familiar voice cried. Miles looked in the direction of the voice. It was Maya, looking on the verge of tears.

"M-M-M… MAYA!"

"Mystic Maya!" Pearl exclaimed. She started crying again. "Mystic Mayaaaaaaaa!"

Maya ran into Wright's arms, Pearl joining them.

"Oh, Nick!" Maya cried. "I knew you would come through! You got Engarde convicted, like I knew you would… And on top of that, you even rescued me!"

"Well, of course I did!" Wright replied, his own voice breaking. "You know I would never desert you! But we sure pressed our luck this trial… You're really lucky to be standing here!"

"Whatever, whatever. Look, it's over, OK? Besides, if I did croak, I would just come back and haunt you like a bad ghost through Pearly!"

…_I suppose calling her a fraud would be inappropriate at a time like this… It's not as if she's hurt anyone with her act…_

"Th-Thanks a lot… Nick," Maya said.

"Um… Don't mention it," Wright replied, blushing.

"Maya…" Miles cut in. _I don't think talking about how ready I was to let her die would be proper, either…_

"Oh, Mr. Edgeworth," Maya said, a bit surprised.

"Um… I'm relieved you're alright."

"Hey… It looks like you've made some real progress, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Umm… Well, I suppose I'm a little different from who I was a year ago."

"Heh…"

What would have likely been a joke was prevented when Maya's stomach growled loudly.

"Alright!" Maya chirped, grabbing Wright's hand and trying to lead him out the door. "I think it's time we got out of this depressing place!"

"Huh?" Wright muttered. "Where are we going!"

"Food, Nick! FOOD! Grub! Chow! I'm starved! I'm so hungry even you look like a nice, juicy burger on a bun to me, Nick!"

"Y-You think I look like a burger…? I'm a Prime Rib at least!"

_What would that make me? Lobster thermidor?_

"Come with us, Mr. Edgeworth!" Pearl insisted, grabbing Miles's hand. "Please!"

"Uh, um…" Miles muttered. "If you insist…"

"Alright…" Wright said. "So how about we hit up our usual burger joint…?"

"Don't be silly, Nick," Maya replied.

"Huh?"

"This case messed up that awesome evening, and got in the way of my gourmet food. So I've decided that we have to make it up by having another feast!"

"A-Another feast…?"

_I can't help but wonder if Wright can afford that…_

"C'mon, Nick!" Maya excitedly shouted as she pulled on Wright's arm. "FOOOOOOD!"


End file.
